


Baton Rouge (1/8)

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-12-31
Updated: 1999-12-31
Packaged: 2018-11-20 21:44:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 63,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11343714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Another trip for Skinner and Mulder to the hot South. A VCS case. A hotel in Baton Rouge. A coming out of sorts. Enjoy!





	Baton Rouge (1/8)

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

Baton Rouge by frogdoggie - Part 1

TITLE: Baton Rouge  
NAME: frogdoggie  
E-MAIL:   
CATEGORY: SRA  
RATING: NC-17. This story contains VERY GRAPHIC CONSENSUAL SEX BETWEEN MEN. So, if you don't like that type of thing - STOP NOW! Forewarned is forearmed.   
SUMMARY: Another trip for Skinner and Mulder to the hot South. A VCS case. A hotel in Baton Rouge. A coming out of sorts. Enjoy! FEEDBACK - YES PLEASE, AND THANK YOU SIR, CAN I HAVE ANOTHER? Comments, suggestions and healthy debate are always welcome. Flames? I use them to roast weenies, hamburgers and Italian sausages on the grill.  
TIMESPAN/SPOILER WARNING.: After the film I think - next season? But I mess with the mytharc a little - I'm not dealing with the films events here. This is frogdoggie country -do what thou whilst. Some oblique references to Ascension, Anasazi, and Folie A Deux.  
KEYWORDS: story angst slash Skinner Mulder NC-17  
DISCLAIMER: Fox Mulder, Walter Skinner, Dana Scully and all other X-Files characters belong to Chris Carter, Ten-Thirteen Productions and 20th Century FOX Broadcasting. No copyright infringement is intended and no profit is being made from their use. 

* * *

Baton Rouge  
by frogdoggie 

I suppose you'll wonder when I realized I liked men. I mean liked them sexually. Well...probably around the same time I discovered I liked women. No shit. Bisexual you say? Well...Yeah. But with me it's mostly sexual I guess. The genitalia are...beside the point really. But, I like to be in love more then in sex when it comes down to brass tacks. And hell -that's so rare for me that when it happens I don't give a flying fuck quite frankly what the other party has between their legs. Christ. 

But I started out with women. There have been several. Did I love them? Did they love me? Well, let's examine the evidence. After all, I am an FBI agent. That's my J.O.B. -examining the evidence. Oh, wait, better yet - let's play that little daisy game - you know the plucking thing - *She Loves Me, She Loves Me Not*? Yeah. 

I'll skip my high school girlfriend. I barely remember her now to tell you the truth. So stick that old flame in the *She Loves Me Not* column. 

Next - Phoebe Green. Oh Jesus. Well I guess you can imagine where she goes. No - maybe not. The daisy game doesn't have a line for *She Hates My Guts*. We'll just put *old Pheebes* in the *She Loves Me Not* column and not revisit that sorry situation. Love her? Hardly. It was strictly lust left in the dust. 

Hmmm. Diana Fowley. Diana, the huntress in Roman mythology. A double entendre there for sure. She did know her J.O.B. though. Smart, perceptive woman. I am Christfully sorry that she's lying in a hospital bed right now struggling for her life, though. It's a fucking shame because I really did like her. I respected her and we had a good friendship. In hindsight, I think the sex ruined it. Yeah, she doesn't exactly go in the *She Loves Me* column. Why? Well, because despite the fact that she chased me all the way back to DC - on the hunt, oh yes no mistaking that fact - I don't think the pursuit had anything to do with love. And in the end that's what broke us up really - she was insatiable and well...I just don't burn as...consistently shall we say. I'll get back to that point later. Nope Diana would fit nicely in a column headed *She Lusts for Me*. But love? NO. And like I said we were friends that probably should have stayed just friends and not become lovers. 

Marita Covarrubias. Definitely *She Loves Me Not*. And the feelings mutual. No question. The Ice Queen. Hey, Ok, at least she was a real blonde. But that was about it. Cock teaser. Bitch really, but a valuable informant. A one night fuck. And I hated myself afterwards because we did the wild thing in a fucking hotel room next to the only woman in this whole Godforsaken world who I know really does love me. 

Dana Scully. God in heaven. *She Loves Me* and she's the only one *in* that whole frickin' column. Listen - I love her too all right. Everything we've been through together it's just...I'd die for her - OK. She's a dream come true for me. The first truly compassionate person I've ever known. Intelligent, warm, intellectually and physically stimulating. A Goddess. An angel. 

Scully and I are soulmates. We have a spiritual connection. And oh yeah - we're lovers too. So we love each other in mind, spirit and body. But even so, the body lovin' bit is a little...complicated. 

How can I put this...Scully and I have an arrangement. Uh, Scully doesn't...well it's not that she doesn't like sex or is afraid of men per se - she just isn't interested in most men. They bore her? No that's not exactly it - close but not quite right. They just don't challenge her intellectually, or physically - I mean as in let's get physical. She claims I'm the only man who does. Well, that viewpoint is as flattering as all get out and part of the reason I'd lick her sensibly high heeled clad feet if she asked me too. 

Most men are afraid of her though and I think that's more to the point. She's a strong woman and most men are intimidated by the idea of a woman who can best them intellectually (as well as physically a lot of the time). So, she doesn't suffer fools and in her book most men are fools. Except for yours truly as I said. 

So we have an arrangement, and really we are in love beyond words. Dana Scully is a very passionate woman. Not many people realize that she burns. They equate her with a woman like Marita - an iceberg. But that's as far from the truth as you can get. She's a fucking red head for God's sake. And if anyone was the stereotypical fiery red head in bed it's Dana Katherine Scully. She has an appetite - oh yeah. But it's a selective appetite and she doesn't feed it very often.

And remember when I said I didn't burn as consistently? Well I don't indulge myself all that often either. 

Sex for both of us is problematical. If we aren't up 72 hours straight on a case, with no food except for maybe salt, sugar and caffeine, then we are writing reports and filling out paperwork. If we aren't on a case or filling out reports and paperwork, we could be lying in a hospital bed with the injury or disease of your choice, or missing in action all together for some reason. In short, we are workaholics. And when we aren't working we're trying to take care of our meager personal lives - her family, my mother, and then we fall into bed exhausted. So, grabbing your partner for a little bump and grind isn't exactly a priority you know? 

But hell, we do get horny. And when we want to indulge we want too boogie big time. And we want someone who is willing to go balls out. And Scully's balls are as big as mine, no doubt about it. I love her for that too. We're perfectly capable of spending 24 hours together in the sack, fucking each other senseless, getting up to eat take out Chinese, shower, shit and shave and then we're good to go again. I mean - Thank you Lord! When we want it we got it baby! 

So, that's the arrangement. We're there for each other - in every way, every day. I don't see other women (since La Femme Marita), and she doesn't give a rats ass for other men, not really despite that crap with Ed Jerse. I told her once another woman wouldn't bother me - I mean her with another woman. HA! She gave me an elbow in the ribs. She's not going there anytime soon. Of course, she doesn't mind the fact that I like men. She wouldn't begrudge me a male lover as long as we practiced safe sex. She understands, my Scully. She knows the bottomless hole in my soul. The one that craves filling with as much love as I can get. The love that I never got when I was young. She fills that empty space but doesn't quite fill it up. I just need...something more. Something hard, something masculine as well. The tough love part - to go with the soft and sweet. Hey, I'm a psychologist. I know what that sounds like. I want a Daddy *and* a Mommy right? Well, cut me some slack, Mary Jane, all right? It's been a bumpy ride.

I teased Scully for being a fag hag once. She gave me the other elbow for that remark.  

Now. What about my men? There haven't been as many men. But shall we play our little game there as well.. sure... 

I was a virgin with men until I got out of the academy. I mean I had the urge but...well I didn't want to admit it to myself. I finally got up the guts to confront my feelings enough to get my cherry busted though. Reggie did that for me, big time. 

Reggie Pardue. Yeah, I'd put him in the *He Loves Me* column. Another partner I was balling. But it went beyond just sex. I did love the big goof. We just drifted apart. I was a different person when I was in VCS. A prick really and the profiling got to me. So, Reggie and I were splitsville and I found the X-Files. But, shit. I miss him even now - a lot sometimes. 

Alex Krycek. God, Alex. Biggest mistake of my life, you motherfucker. Scully and I weren't together yet at that point. I mean we were still dancing around what we really wanted with each other. Scully and I as a couple came way after Duane Barry. But when Alex walked into my life I was hurting and confused enough that I fell for the fucking Ken Doll like a ton of bricks. Alex was so sympathetic - the little prick. Little prick? I don't think so. And he could use it too. Christ Jesus. But it wasn't just the fact that he was a great lover. I thought that...well, maybe that...Oh hell! His betrayal hurt me more than I can even talk about now. I don't want to talk about it. I just want to forget. I hadn't wanted to look at another man for a long time after Alex. 

But I had always hoped...hoped that, you know, I'd find a man for me as special as my special woman, Dana Scully. The only man to match the only woman in my life. I hardly imagined I would, and who he would be. 

I mean come on, Walter Sergei Skinner? Who would have thought? I've known Assistant Director Skinner for five years. Sat across from him while he chewed on my ass more times than I can count. Put up with his by the book, tight-assed, fill out that form, Agent Mulder, get the report in on time, Agent, I can't approve this request and what about this expense Mulder, button-down collar, bullshit formality every time I have to talk to him. 

However. I'll admit something here. Even while all that was going on for five years I looked. I mean I thought about him once in a while. OK, more than once in a while. I thought about it a hell of a lot after Mr. Walter Skinner had to put his hands on me, restrain me a few times when I got out of hand. The last time - I mean well, we were pressed pretty fucking close that last time. So what if I was scared shitless and he was as mad as hell. (not to mention the fact his righteous anger was unfounded because I was saving his fat neck, but we won't go there). Even under those conditions it was a little difficult not to notice his pistol wasn't the only hard thing in his pocket. Yeah. I thought about that hard body against mine more than once or twice after that little incident. 

Hell, Scully's thought about Walter every once in a while. She told me as much one night. I think Walter comes under Scully's *might just be acceptable* column as far as men go. Except he's the boss for her. So, she keeps her distance. 

And really I couldn't get past that boss thing either. The guy exudes authority, projects the dom, the top. That *oh please spank me Daddy thang*. He was the best closeted queer I've ever seen. So closeted he hadn't even...well I'll get back to all that in time. What I mean is - who would have known? But in our J.O.B. staying in one kind of closet or another is a way of life. So Walter's camouflage was a matter of preservation. Walter was married for 17 years and personifies the tight-lipped, Mr. Spock unemotional, hardass for his own protection. It's not a stupid precaution. Believe me. 

So, although I entertained my fantasies regarding AD Skinner I never dreamed...And now I'm in love with him? That's a fucking X-File let me tell you. But nevertheless it is true. What's more funny folks is, Walter's in love with me too. Honest to God. And it all happened so fast. We fell in love - fell - hell yes - like that ton of bricks again. Maybe it was the heat. Baton Rouge is hot after all. Yeah, it happened in Baton Rouge. 

xXx 

Baton Rouge, Louisiana, in July - Mother of God. It was hot. They say that the heat causes more crime. There's a theory that says temperatures below 98.6, human body temperature, cause crime stats to stay flat or decrease. The cold keeps the crooks at home warming their toes in front of their stolen microwaves. Above 98.6 the perps are too hot to commit their little anti-social atrocities. But right at 98.6 people go a little crazy. It was just about 98.6 in Baton Rouge. 

Some bastard was crazy in Baton Rouge that's for sure. As a loon. Sexual serial killer. The worst kind. Child predator, kidnapper. Baby killer. I hate those cases. Walter always assigns me to consult on them because - OK - I am the best resource he has to catch the sick fucks. I can profile them and the local Fibbies or cops can have them cuffed in record time - before they claim another victim. So even though I go through a living hell on a VCS consult I understand logically why Walter loans me out. I just have a hard time handling it emotionally. This time was no different. 

To make matters worse it was a high profile case. The first victim had been a police captain's little 8 year old daughter. The second, the 9 year old daughter of a noted public defender, the third, the assistant district attorney's daughter, just turned 10 (a non-partisan killer it seemed), The fourth, the daughter of a district judge, 10 again, and the last had been the oldest, the 11 year old daughter of Senator Andrew Rhodes, the very liberal senator for his district which encompassed Baton Rouge, Louisiana. The first four victims had been found raped and mutilated, their bodies found floating, tied to cross-shaped bundles of straw, in the bayou. 

The local newspapers and network broadcast media broke the story and then ran with it. They ran it all the way up to a national level and now the major national print publications and the big broadcast networks, including FOX, were all having a field day. The story finally made *The Today Show* and all bets were off then - it was a press feeding frenzy. 

The headlines became more and more hysterical, inflammatory and spectacular. *Holy War Against the Law*, *The Moses Killer*, *Dead Babies in the Bayou*, *Who Crossed Him?* etc. etc. ad nausuem. I wish the press would realize when they write those headlines that they were fueling the asshole's fire. The guy was probably beating his own meat over the morning paper by that point. Crap.

The local bureau office was quite frankly floundering with the case. They just couldn't come up with any valid leads. The importance of the victims families, the age and sex of the victims, and the religious Modus Operandi of the crimes was causing local politicos to put a lot of pressure on DC. The locals wanted to get some help down there to capture the sick dick before he grabbed another kid. 

Unfortunately, DC allowed the SAC in Baton Rouge to flounder a bit longer and the Senator's daughter got snatched. That's when Senator Rhodes squealed like a stuck pig all the way to the Attorney General and anyone else who would listen up on the hill including the President of the US of A. So, the powers that be had to find somewhere to have the buck passed - or rather someplace to have the buck stop. Assistant Director Walter S. Skinner was called in, and consequently that's where I came in as well. 

I don't know if you realize just what Walter does for a living. He's one of nine Assistant Directors at the Bureau. He is specifically, AD in charge of Criminal Investigation. In other words he's in charge of 80 per cent of the bureaus agents. Maybe in charge of 70,000 or so cases a year? No shit folks. No wonder the guy's bald. He's the head of seven separate sections including civil rights, counter-terrorism, drugs, white-collar crime, organized crime, investigative support, and of course violent crime. 

Assistant Directors very seldom go into the field. They are rarely involved directly in a case unless it's a very high profile one. High profile like a senator's daughter being snatched and under peril of death somewhere in Baton Rouge. And high profile because the fucking SAC is screwing things up the whazoo and the local and national media (fucking short memories of the Richard Jewell fiasco notwithstanding), are having the FBI for breakfast. 

So, Walter Skinner got the word that he would be going to Baton Rouge to kick ass, run interference against the press, and hopefully rally the forces to catch the murderer before the Senators daughter ended up on a cross floating down the bloody bayou. It was going to be a management nightmare. 

Naturally he needed the best resources to help him accomplish this miracle. So as I said - being one of the best resources brought me into the equation. He would have liked to have had Dana Scully too. But unfortunately, Scully was in San Diego with her mother. Her brother Bill had been injured in a shipboard accident and was in very serious condition. Both women were in California to support his wife and children. So, Scully's invaluable forensic help was out. Walter would have to rely on his ace in the hole - me. 

I knew when he called me up to his office I was in deep shit. He looked like he'd forgotten to take his Metamucil that morning. 

"Agent Mulder, sit down." 

Walter has different ways of saying "Sit down." Just by the mere inflection of those two words both Scully and I know what we're in for. 

In this case the inflection told me something unpleasant was lying in wait with his next words. But, and this analogy just jumped into my head, and I have to laugh now under the circumstances. His tone of voice reminded me of John Steed in *The Avengers*. You know when he says that line *Mrs. Peel, we're needed?* Yeah, well anyway - I got the idea AD Skinner was going to ask for my help, needed it desperately, but his stiff necked, FBI brass-assed, ex-Marine assholiness wasn't going to let him admit it. He was going to order me instead, and it was going to stick in my craw again. But I sat and kept my mouth shut - yeah, for a change - and listened to what the man had to say. Something about the look in his eyes told me I'd better wait and hear him out. 

"Agent Mulder, I'm assigning you to VCS. You'll be consulting on the Rhodes case."  

Yup, just like that. No - Mulder, I'm sorry, Or Mulder, I wish I could send you *and* Scully, or even Mulder would you like Kim to get you a cup of coffee before I stick it in and ram it home? Fuck. 

"That baby killer in Baton Rouge?" I couldn't help it. My voice rose an octave at the end of the sentence. I sounded like fucking Mickey Mouse for a second. An accusatory Mickey Mouse. Well, I was pissed. I knew the general information about the case of course. I knew it was more than likely going to be a nightmare. God damn Mulder torture. 

"Is that a problem, Agent Mulder?" He was stern, stiff, affronted. I had smart-mouthed him and he didn't like it. I just stared at him for a second. OK. I was going to stick my neck out. I was just a little tired of being assigned to the worst gut-wrenching shit Walter could find for me over in VCS. I just had to stand up for myself this once. 

"You know it's a problem sir. With Scully gone I have to do all the paperwork for the X-Files and since we just closed that case out in Wisconsin there's a mound of it as high as my butt cheeks down there and..." 

"Agent Mulder." His tone stopped me dead then. It was so bereft suddenly. Like he had the entire world on his shoulders. And in a way he did. The whole world of the Criminal Investigation Division anyway. He took his glasses off and rubbed the bridge of his nose. 

"Do you have any idea what the Rhodes case involves? Any idea of what's going on down there in Baton Rouge?" 

"Only what's in the newspapers and on TV, sir." In truth I hadn't paid too much attention to the Rhodes case. Like I said I did know the rough facts. Scully and I had been out in Wisconsin for the better part of three weeks and had returned only to have Scully get on a plane almost immediately for her trip to San Diego. So although I knew some sick fuck was killing kids in Baton Rouge I didn't know all the details. 

Walter put his glasses back on and then fixed me with his baby browns. They looked hard, black instead of brown, like black marbles and just as shiny with barely self-contained anger. 

"Then I'm surprised you didn't read in the papers, or see on the tube, that the SAC down there, Scott Adams, is fucking the case up royally and the media is crucifying the FBI just like Mr. *John Doe Baby Killer* is crucifying those little girls." He was glaring at me and his voice was very low, and very dangerous. If I said something snide now I thought - Christ he'll come across the desk and strangle me. 

"No, I didn't know that sir, I'm sorry." 

"Yeah, Mulder. Well, babies *are* dying in Baton Rouge and the fucking locals don't have a clue on stopping it. So what I'm trying to say is I could really use your help when I fly down there tomorrow. I know you don't like these VCS consults, Mulder, but...I..." 

"When you fly down there?" I asked. I was a bit taken aback. First of all that he was at last actually asking me for my help. And secondly that he was going down to Baton Rouge with me. Of course, it made sense. He had said SAC Adams was losing it down there. Walter Skinner had a reputation for taking the reins in that type of situation and getting results. So shit - they were sending old Walter down to knock heads. Well, well. That might make things just a tad more tolerable. Results would be paramount under the circumstances. Between the two of us I thought, we just might be able to swing bringing in our man. Yes sir. 

AD Skinner didn't look happy about the situation though. Jesus I couldn't blame him, really. What a shitty position to be in all the way around. Hey, I know what I'm like on a VCS consult. What I'm like most of the time for Christ's sake. So does Walter. Would you want to be working with me under that kind of pressure? Right. I turned my attention back to my boss because he was giving me his vision of the way of the world. 

"Yes. I'm being sent down to take charge of the investigation," he stopped for a moment and then I guess he was trying to make things a little lighter because he let his mouth twitch into a terse little grin. Just for a second. Hell. 

"The Director is sending in his version of the fucking cavalry," he rumbled. 

"Don't you mean he's throwing the Christians to the Lions, sir?" I answered. Well, I was going to at least try to match the bitter sounding tone that underpinned his humor. 

He barked his gruff laugh. 

"You've got a point there, Mulder." He looked down at the two very thick files on his desk. 

"Is that the Rhodes file, sir?" I asked following his eyes. 

"Yes, two copies. One for me and one for you." 

I moved forward and extended my hand. He picked up the top file and handed it to me across the desk. 

"Just what I always like, a little light reading." 

"Right. I want you to read it and give me your thoughts first thing tomorrow morning. I want you in here at 4 AM Mulder." 

"What time's the flight tomorrow, sir?" 

"6 AM, the earlybird." 

"All right, sir."  

"I'll see you here in the morning, Mulder. We'll leave for the airport after we discuss the case. Dismissed." 

So, we flew down to Baton Rouge. 

xXx 

"You really think this guy isn't taking revenge on the legal system?" Walter asked.  

Walter was seated next to me on the plane. It was a two seat, three seat arrangement. We did have the vacant seat between us, for formality, for distance. So both of us could have some damn leg room really. Walter was on the aisle, a cup of coffee and the partially eaten airline breakfast in front of him. I was next to the window and I'd all ready wolfed down my scrambled eggs, toast and sausage patty. I like to carb up before I know I'm going to go through a brain drain like Baton Rouge. I'd had two cups of coffee as well. I'd been up all night with The Rhodes Case. It was being called the Rhodes case as in Senator Rhodes. Prior to the Senator's daughter it had been Baton Rouge case *#gazillion whatever*. I thought it was a bit of a disservice to the other victims to change the name. But I suppose little Ashley Rhodes wouldn't think so. But I digress. 

I turned and looked into Walter's specs. Light from the airplanes tiny window made them look opaque until he shifted to take up his fork. He looked tired as well. I new he'd been up with the file. He had been phenomenal this morning during our discussion of the case. Razor sharp in his observations and inquiry. I got an inkling again of what Walter Skinner must have been like as a field agent. I thought again how he must hate being behind a desk, pushing paper. It really was a waste.  

"He may think that's what he's doing, sir. But in reality I think his problems are a lot more deep seated than just being pissed because he got a bad deal in traffic court." 

"I have to admit the religious angle does make more sense." 

"Yeah. I'll know more when I get a look at the crime scenes and the bodies. But I think we're looking for a white male, 25 to 35, basically your typical serial killer. A guy with deep seated religious psychopathology here as well. I mean that Moses in the bulrush imagery is pretty hard to deny." 

Walter took a last bite of egg and nodded his head. He picked up his coffee cup, took a quick sip and grimaced. It must have gone cold. I went a little cold with his next words. 

"I've got the bodies, uh, you're scheduled to view the bodies first. Their parents really want them released for burial. Mulder you realize we probably have only 48 hours before the Rhode's girl ends up in the bayou, don't you? That's been the MO up to this point. Snatch them, torture them for 3 days and then float 'em. The damn idiots down there let 24 hours elapse on this one before we were called in. So, we've got maybe 48 hours. Christ." 

I cringed a little. Wonderful. I had a feeling I'd be viewing the victims remains right after the plane landed. If I'd been smarter I might not have eaten my entire breakfast. 

"Yes, sir, I'm aware of those facts from the file. I'll be prepared to hit the ground running in Baton Rouge. I understand the urgency." 

"Good," Walter replied tersely. He nodded his head in appreciation. I really did get the idea he was very glad to have me along. It made me feel good too. I sort of wanted to show Walter Skinner what I could do in this situation. He'd be seeing me work again face to face and I just felt like I wanted to do a really good job for once so...well fuck what can I say? I wanted to impress the boss for once. Hey, even I like to do that once in a while. I may be an anarchist rebel a lot of the time but once in a while I like to have my ego stroked too. So sue me. 

I was about to ask Walter when we'd be going to the county morgue when the stew came by our seats. 

"Can I get either of you some more coffee?" 

The stewardess had been very pleasant. She was intelligent as well as attractive too. A tall, leggy brunette with really arresting violet eyes. She had joked with us a bit earlier when she found out we were FBI agents. I'd laughed like hell because she had a very acerbic sense of humor.  

What was funny though was she really hadn't paid as much attention to me as she did to Walter. Walter was seemingly oblivious to that fact. I mean here's this gorgeous woman, going out of her way to be attentive to him and he's chomping on his toast and eggs like she isn't even standing there in the aisle. 

I guess there was more than one reason for that inattentiveness. He was focused on Baton Rouge. I didn't know the other reason until later of course. Besides that, Walter doesn't realize anyone could be attracted to him. Not really. I know that sounds incredible but deep down the man has a serious inferiority complex about his appearance. What's not to like you ask? Yeah well - repeat the words bald and over forty a few times and you'll get a clue. Never mind the fact that he's built like that bronze Rodin statue, *The Thinker* with muscles as hard as Rodin gave his man in thought. Walter just doesn't have a clue as to his assets. So when someone pays attention to him he just doesn't see it. At least not right away. And like I said - his mind had all ready flown ahead of the plane down to bayou country. And I could understand why that had happened for sure. 

"I could use some more, thank you," he answered the stew, extending his coffee cup. And then he did give her a little smile. Just enough to be sociable and appreciative. Oh boy. Well, the stew was panting then. Oh yeah. She filled his cup nice and slow. 

"Is there anything else I can get you?" she asked smiling really wide. She was looking right at Walter. Her glance in my direction was an after thought. I'm thinking, "Yeah, like a membership in the mile high club." 

"No thank you. Mulder?" he replied. 

"What?" Oops I'd been caught in *Wally World* there for a couple of seconds. 

"Do you want any more coffee?" Walter asked inclining his head at the stew. 

"Oh, no thanks, Nancy, I'm caffeined up just fine," I smiled at her as well. She really was a nice kid. Her eyes lit up just a bit when I showed my pearly whites. But really I guess I wasn't her type. Fine by me. I'm leaning towards petite red heads nowadays. Or maybe I should say leaning on. Jesus. I was going to miss Scully on this trip. No doubt about it. I made a mental note to call her when I got settled in my hotel room. By that time I'd really need to hear her voice. 

"All right. Well if either of you change your minds just hit the call button," she answered and then she headed up to the next occupied seats with her cart full of goodies. 

Walter went back to sipping his coffee and I went back to watching Walter. 

Something I need to tell you about what happens to me on a VCS consult. I go a little crazy - well, more crazy. You've probably caught on to that idea by now though. One of the odd side effects, a problem I have, is that I just...I don't know...all my senses become magnified. My perceptions are heightened. It's almost like a sixth sense. It helps me with the profiling but it doesn't help me with my sex life. Why? Because it makes whatever sense I have that gets my hormones hopping (maybe olfactory?), go on overtime. I mean maybe it is this blood hound nose of mine I don't know. But boy I can sense the fucking pheromones in the air and wham - I'm as horny as hell. It's a fucking curse too. 

On consults where Scully's along we'll usually try to schedule a day or maybe two after we get back to DC to decompress. Then it's major Mulder comfort for her and Scully soothing for me. We end up clinging to each other half in desperation I think mostly to feel alive, human again. Sometimes it isn't even a 24 hour sex marathon either. Sometimes we just sit around, dazed - and talk. Or watch some old scifi movie, play scrabble whatever. As long as we can touch and hold each other when the shadows get too long. But of course we do make a lot of love too - it helps us forget everything else except each other for awhile so we can back to what passes for normal for us both. 

At any rate, on the plane to Baton Rouge my hormone hopping hound dog sense was working it's annoying magic. I was watching Walter and my pupils were starting to dilate. I'm just glad I wasn't sitting in the seat directly next to him. If I had been I'm sure I would have been sweating with the feeling of that warm, hard solid wall of muscle he calls a bicep pressing up against my arm. As it was I was struggling not to get aroused and before we reached Baton Rouge I had failed miserably and was sporting a woody for Walter like you wouldn't believe. God, I hate my body sometimes. And being a man can be a curse in a situation like that too, let me tell you. I mean Jesus, I had to stick the friggin' in flight magazine in my lap to hide my boner and then pretend I was asleep so I could do square roots in my head to get myself calmed down. 

However - when we landed in Baton Rouge I had no trouble losing the perpendicular pecker. The media and the 90 degree heat and humidity took care of that for me. The media and the ungodly temperature were waiting at the airport. The press had their own hound dog noses in the air at the smell of fresh DC meat on the hoof, prime for the slaughter. I started to sweat both from the prospect of running their gauntlet and at the feeling of blast furnace heat that we could feel even inside the air conditioned planes cabin.

The damn heat would dog us during our entire stay in Baton Rouge. It was like a malevolent entity in its own right. You could feel it, like I said, even inside air conditioned buildings. And when you were outside in it...well it slapped you down hard under it's heavy, oppressive hand.  

xXx 

"Fuck," Walter cursed looking through the planes window.

"What?" 

"Press pukes," he growled. 

"Where?" 

"In the God damn concourse and the gate area. I can see them through the observation windows." 

Walter's jaw was clenching and unclenching until I thought he was going to grind his molars down to the gumline. I had been asleep (square roots are better then counting sheep), and when he moved over to shake my arm to wake me up on landing, he got a good look out the little window next to me. Now he was stretched across me looking out the window and I was getting a birds eye view of the Walter Skinner jaw muscle clench in all it's gruesome glory. He moved back and sat down in his seat. The seat belt sign had all ready gone off. God, I must have been sleeping soundly. Well, I had been up late the night before. I would soon discover I was devoutly glad for that short plane ride nap. It would almost be the last sleep either of us got for almost 72 hours.  

"There must have been a leak that we were coming. Scott Adams's ass is grass I can tell you that right now. That prick. I'll leak him. Crap, I'd like to take a leak on him. Jesus. He should have controlled this better all the way around," Walter hissed between his teeth. 

"Yes sir," was all I could think to say. I guess I was going to get to see AD Walter S. Skinner in action for sure now. I figured my best bet here was to keep my mouth shut and go along for the ride. Go along or get bulldozed over. So, I just made myself the model Special Agent and prepared to lend a hand if need be. 

"Look, Mulder. This could get ugly. Just...keep your lip zipped and let me do the talking. Your only comment is *No Comment* understand?" 

"No problem, sir."  

"All right. We'll deplane last. That should give the press some confusion with the crowd. I just hope Adams had the sense to get us some extra interference out there. I want to get into the VIP lounge, and then get the fuck out the back door, and downtown as soon as possible." 

"I can't agree with you more there, sir." 

"Yeah. No shit. Mulder, listen. I...I'm not going to be very pleasant to live with over the next few days until we catch this killer. Uh...I want to apologize now for being the *A Number One Prick* I'm going to be, all right. Just...do your best. I know you will, that's all I expect of you. And I appreciate it." 

I was pretty much struck speechless on hearing him say it. It touched me too. The look in his eyes told me more than his words ever could convey. He knew we were entering the *heart of darkness* and he really was sorry he was dragging me along for the descent into madness. But, after all it was part of the J.O.B. And for crying out loud I'd seen more weird shit than Walter Skinner had ever dreamed of in his wildest nightmares. At least I thought so. I thought I was ready for anything. I was almost right. 

The plane started to empty out. I was grateful we only had carry on luggage. So, no trip to the luggage carousel was necessary. Who knew if we'd ever get our luggage. Walter must have read my mind. 

"Mulder, watch your luggage, ok. I wouldn't put it past one of those media assholes to lift something if they thought they could get a lead." 

"Yeah, well, if they think my flying pig print boxers are worth a sidebar they're welcome to them," I quipped in an attempt to lighten the mood. 

Walter looked at me with a raised eyebrow. But then he did rumble his bass laugh for a few moments and I was glad he had liked the lame attempt at humor. I wouldn't hear him really laugh again until days later. And between then and now it would be a long, cruel trip. 

xXx 

The media circled like sharks smelling blood in the water. But neither Walter or I was going to thrash around long enough for any of them to take a bite. 

SAC Adams as well as his ASAC, Johnson Matthews and around a dozen local agents were attempting crowd control. I thought -who's investigating the fucking case? But the airport was a zoo, filled with roiling, sweating humanity, so I was glad he had the extra manpower on hand. Between the print and broadcast media the concourse was crowded with more reporters than travelers. It was like feeding time in the monkey house.  

The other debarking passengers in front of us acted as a milling, confused and very satisfactory diversion for Walter and me to make our exit from the plane. I went out first, carrying my garment bag, and laptop, in the hopes no one would recognize me either. It would have worked too if the agents accompanying the SAC and ASAC hadn't known my identity. But they did, and formed an immediate phalanx around me and then Walter as he followed behind me. Crapola. The press surged forward all the way from the concourse, like angry hornets, buzzing their questions as we fought our way to the VIP lounge. 

"No comment?" I didn't even have a chance to get a word in edgewise. The reporters were firing questions so fast I would have never had a chance to answer them anyway. But most of the queries were directed at Walter Skinner. They were all fairly typical. *Assistant Director Skinner - What are you and your team from DC (oh yeah team, right - Walter and moi), going to do to help catch the killer? Has DC lost confidence in the local FBI office, is that why you're here? Did the fact that Ashley Rhodes was a Senator's daughter bring all the high powered guns down to Baton Rouge now? Did the Senator exert pressure to get DC involved? If you won't answer now, Mr. Skinner, will you be holding a press conference to answer some of these questions soon?* 

The last question finally got Walter to stop saying "No comment." As we reached the door to the VIP lounge he turned to face the crowd of reporters being held back by the bodies of twelve agents, SAC Adams and ASAC Matthews. 

"Ladies and Gentlemen. I can tell you there will be a press conference this afternoon at 5 PM at FBI headquarters downtown. I will have a prepared statement at that time which should answer some of your questions. Until then - I have no further comment." 

An angry and indignant murmur went up. Exclamations of all sorts could be heard. "Prepared statement? Read press release, no questions, shit," and "Crap, he's timing that for the evening news," and "It figures. No answers and then just a damn press release how's that gonna look on, or in, or..." "I hate cooling my heels until 5 PM..." "Friggin' DC Bastard, How about some copy you..." "What a thick necked asshole," and even a couple of "who the hell was that agent with him, the tall guy in the designer suit? "I think that's the profiler, what's his name?" "Mulder." "Yeah, what have you got on him. Hey, find out your own shit..." 

Oh Whoopee! I could hardly wait to hear what they had to ask Walter about me at the press conference. And they would ask despite the prepared statement idea. That was the way the game was played. I didn't have much time to think about anything else though. I was being swept forward as Walter the SAC, ASAC and the other agents shoved through the single doorway into the VIP lounge. 

xXx 

"Christ on a crutch, Adams. Who the hell leaked we were coming to those fourth estate ghouls?" Walter asked, red-faced as he adjusted his tie and smoothed his suit. He took out his handkerchief and wiped the sweat from his face and neck. He returned the cloth to his pocket and shifted his neck sideways suddenly. I heard an audible crack. God. His neck was cracking like a gunshot all ready. 

I felt like I needed to crack my entire body. I also thought I was going to melt. I was dissolving inside my suit and I really wished I had a handkerchief to wipe my sodden face. I resorted to using my suit coat sleeve and watched SAC Scott Adams basting in his own sweat as well. Walter wasn't done with him yet either. He moved up into his personal space and continued his tirade. 

"And what the flying fuck are *all* of you doing down here? Just who's minding the store? Is anyone investigating this friggin's case? You should know better, Scott. And Jesus - Where's your God damned PR man. I know I'm supposed to handle the press but not before I even get a chance to take a piss here". 

"Walter, I'm sorry, I have no idea who leaked the information. And I thought you'd like as much help out here as possible once I found out the media was going to mob you," SAC Scott Adams replied. 

"It's your job to know, Adams. Now what about the PR liaison?" 

"He resigned two weeks ago. We haven't replaced him yet." 

"Are you serious?" Walter replied incredulous. 

"Unfortunately, yes, Walter." Adams shot back. His hands were shaking slightly. Walter ran his hand over his mouth and shook his head. His face got marginally more red and it wasn't from the heat any longer. 

SAC Scott Adams was red too with a mixture of anger, embarrassment and the heat. It was obvious from the look on his face that he knew he was in deep shit. Walter fixed him with a very cold look. I could tell he wasn't happy the SAC had used his first name, twice. That was really a stupid blunder under the circumstances. I mean the guy knew he was in hot water. He spoke out of desperation or foolhardiness or both. I had heard Adams father was an acquaintance of Walters. A now retired agent who, when Walter was still a field agent, had worked with him a few times. But his son had over stepped the bounds here. Daddy being an acquaintance of the AD wasn't going to be able to bail sonny boy out. Not with the total fuck up he was responsible for in Baton Rouge.  

The other agents were doing their best imitations of deaf, dumb and blind people as the SAC seemed about to face the music. They milled about in groups of two and three waiting for the fireworks to explode so they could duck and cover. 

Walter fixed Adams with one last glare and then turned his back on him to face Johnson Matthews. 

Everyone busied themselves with talking or looking elsewhere. 

SAC Adams hastened to introduce Mathews to Skinner, "Assistant Director Skinner this is Johnson Matthews, my ASAC." 

Matthews was a short black man about the same age as Walter. He looked a little bit like and older version of Barry Sanders, the Detroit running back. Matthews was older than his SAC. Adams was about my age - and white. Obviously some of the good old boy politics were still in evidence in Baton Rouge FBI circles. Matthews extended his hand and Walter shook it. 

"I'm pleased to meet you Johnson. Vietnam, Class of 73, right?" Walter greeted him firmly. 

"Right, sir. I seem to remember a Walter Skinner in the MASH unit around the same time I did my little tour there. Am I correct, sir?" 

"Were you that noisy son of a bitch that kept singing those Sam Cook songs?" 

"Hell, yes. That was me." 

"Thought so."

"Don't bullshit me AD Skinner, I know you read my file." 

Walter blinked for a second and then he chuckled, "Well, you got me there. I wasn't sure it was you until I read the file. But I do remember your damn good rendition of those Sam Cook tunes just the same. A couple of nights you were the only thing that kept me from ripping my hair out - and I had a hell of a lot more hair then, even with the Marine regulation haircut." 

It was Johnson Matthews turn to chuckle then but he laughed pretty hard instead, nodding his head and saying, "Is that so...well shit..." 

Walter let him laugh for a couple of seconds while SAC Adams stood by fuming and getting more red by the moment. Walter finally interrupted Matthews.  

"Well, I'm sorry we don't have more time to talk over old times, but this is going to be a hell of a war here too, Johnson. Can I count on you to get the job done?" 

"I'll do my best, sir." 

"That's all I can ask." 

I watched as Walter, with just a few pleasantries had pulled Matthews into his sphere of influence and effectively cut Adams out of it. The scene did not bode well for the SAC. 

As the three men were doing their dominance dance a woman agent had drawn up to listen and watch the conversation. She was standing next to me. I figured, what the hell, I might as well join in the introductions since no one was bothering to introduce me. Just as I thought it Walter spoke up again. 

"I'm sorry, Ladies and Gentlemen," The assembled group became instantly alert and attentive, gathering around to hear Walter's next words of wisdom. Walter continued and I started to flinch because I had a feeling I knew what was coming next. 

"This is Fox Mulder. I think most of you know him by reputation as a profiler. You are to treat him as you would treat me. He should have your utmost cooperation and free rein to perform his job. Believe me he's very good at what he does. If allowed to do what he does best we'll catch your perp. Is that clear?" 

There was a chorus of "Yes, sirs." Christ. Well, it was flattering of course. But, I felt like shrinking into the cement floor. Shit. Walter moved off to talk to SAC Adams and ASAC Matthews in private for a moment. He dismissed the other agents back to their duties and the assemblage began to break up, taking the rooms back door out to where their Bu-cars were parked in VIP parking. All of them had assigned duties for now and were anxious to get back to them and out of the tension that was obviously brewing between the SAC, ASAC and AD. 

The tall, muscular, Hispanic woman agent standing next to me didn't leave with the rest immediately. She instead extended her hand with a smile, "Nothing like being singled out as the fair haired boy, Agent Mulder. I'm Carmen Guitteraz. Pleased to meet you." 

"Pleased to meet you too, Agent Guitteraz." I replied grasping her hand. I smiled a little sheepishly at her remark. Just what I needed - it would be *Pretty Boy Spooky* next if I wasn't careful. Her grip was firm in mine. She had a grip like a vice. She looked like a female body builder. Really ripped. I thought - hell I wouldn't want to go against her in hand to hand - no way. 

"Carmen's fine. We'll be working together. I've been assigned to act as your liaison. I...up until now I was as close to a profiler as they had here. Degree in psychology from Duke University." 

"Oh, well...I don't mean to step on any toes, here Carmen. I'm sure I can use all the help I can get. This case is going to suck, really, to be blunt. I would appreciate someone to bounce ideas off. If you'll bear with me, put up with my shit, I think we'll do ok - deal? Oh, and please - just call me Mulder." I studied her carefully. She looked smart. Alert. I was hoping she was as perceptive as Dana Scully. I needed someone with as keen a mind as Scully had to keep me sharp too in this kind of difficult situation. I was hoping Carmen Guitteraz would fit the bill. She'd certainly be able to watch my back with no problem. No question about it. 

She still held my hand and was looking me up and down pretty thoroughly as well. I held her gaze under her close appraisal. She nodded her head, bringing her scrutiny to an end, "All right, Mulder, you've got yourself a deal," she replied, smiling and shaking my hand even more firmly.  

As we got done with our little detente, SAC Adams, ASAC Matthews and Walter returned to our side. 

"Oh, Good I see Agent Guitteraz has introduced herself. Sir, I've assigned, Agent Carmen Guitteraz as Agent Mulder's liaison. She has a degree in psychology and has been acting as our de facto profiler on this case," Adams spoke up, addressing Walter with deference. No more Walter. It was sir now. 

"Fine. Welcome aboard, Agent Guitteraz. We appreciate having your expertise and prior knowledge here. I'm sure both will be invaluable. Please accompany us to the hotel. You can fill Agent Mulder in on recent data that wasn't in the case files we had in DC." 

"Yes, sir," Carmen replied shaking Walter's hand. 

"Mulder we're going to the hotel to check in and dump our luggage. Then you're due at the morgue, and after that you're scheduled to view the crime scenes," Walter was all stiff professionalism now. More ram rod straight then I had ever seen him, "I'll meet you at FBI headquarters as soon as you're done. I want your report at that time. Be prepared to brief the entire team in fact. We need to know who you think we should really be looking for." 

Ouch I thought. He was really sticking it to SAC Adams. I noticed ASAC Matthews had rather a wry look on his face. 

"Yes, sir. I'd like Agent Guitteraz to accompany me to the morgue and the crime scenes," I replied looking at SAC Adams. 

"Agent Guitteraz has been assigned as your liaison, Mulder. She's going wherever you go," Walter advised cutting Adams off before he could even get his mouth open. 

Then he turned on the SAC and ASAC. 

"Gentlemen I want you to come along to the hotel and then we'll drive down to headquarters together. I want to meet with you both immediately when we get down there. We have a lot to discuss, including this God damn press conference. I can't worry about your lack of a PR man now. We'll have to come up with the press release on our own. So, I hope you're prepared to play spin doctors. I need to schedule that team meeting right away as well. Have everyone ready to meet with me at 1 PM and ready to report in full. All right?" 

Like they would say no? Both Adams and Matthews gave a simultaneous "Yes, sir." All of us left the room and headed to separate Bu-Cars. SAC Adams was all ready on his cell phone contacting the various agents in charge, rounding up the entire team to get them back at headquarters for the 1 PM meeting. Jumping to it like it was going to save his skin now. I almost felt sorry for the skinny little turtle ass. But not quite. Kids had died because he'd hadn't been able to handle his job. And now Walter and I were here to pick up the pieces. 

I was riding with Carmen to the hotel. The big wigs were taking a second Bu-Car, Matthews was driving. I was suddenly extremely thankful I had Carmen giving me a lift. One look at the SAC, ASAC and AD told me that the air in the car might possibly turn blue way before they got to the hotel. Unless of course Walter would wait until he got them in separate meetings back at FBI headquarters to lower the ax. I thought he might just wait. At least to spare ASAC Matthews seeing his SAC's ass chewed up and spit out on the car seat. 

AD Skinner had more savior faire then to embarrass one subordinate in front of another. No, I figured he'd travel in stony silence, letting both men stew in their own juices until he got to headquarters. Then I had a feeling I just might be addressing Johnson as SAC Matthews before too long and Adams would be reading tourist brochures for Nowwheresville, USA, where the local bureau office had two men in it - him and some guy named Buford who was a couple of years away from retirement.

Carmen and I got into her Bu-Car and followed Matthews out of the airport, and out onto the freeway towards the Hyatt Regency Hotel near FBI headquarters we'd been booked into for the duration. 

We drove along in silence for a while. I was enjoying the Olds AC after the steam heat treatment of the parking lot. I watched the scenery go by for a few minutes and then Carmen popped the 64 thousand dollar question. 

"So, Mulder, do you really hunt down little green men or is that just a nasty rumor I've heard about you?" 

Oh fuck, I thought. Here it comes. Now I'll lose all credibility and dealing with her will be like being a hog farmer. Shoveling through deep shit every day on the job. 

"They're gray actually. And yes, all the rumors are true, Carmen. Is that a problem? Do you think my unique casework will prevent me from busting my hump down here in order to stop any more little girls from ending up in the bayou?" I replied quietly. I was just so tired of hearing that shit. 

"No, Mulder, I don't think that at all. I'm just trying to make conversation. Besides, I...I've followed some of your work on the X-Files. I graduated from Duke in psychology remember. I just didn't mention my minor was in parapsychology." 

I laughed then. Well, well. Ms. Carmen Guitteraz was a little spooky herself. This wouldn't be so bad after all. 

"So, are you a fan Ms. Guitteraz?" I couldn't help smirking a bit. It was the relief mostly. 

"Let's just say - sort of a Ms. Spooky, Ok. That is what the assholes up there in DC call you isn't it - Spooky Mulder?" 

"Yeah, But they call my partner, Dana Scully, Ms. Spooky. You'll have to find another nick I'm afraid." 

She laughed then as well, "Ok, I'll give it some thought. Where is your partner?" 

"She's taken a temporary leave of absence. Family emergency." 

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear it." 

"Yeah. We could really use her here. She's a crack forensic pathologist as well as a brilliant field agent." 

"You must be a good team. How long have you been partnered?" 

"Five years." 

She nodded her head and grew quiet. When she spoke again her voice was very soft, very subdued, "My partner, Ted Grady was killed in the line of duty two months ago. I'm just coming back from medical leave myself. I haven't had anyone assigned as a partner yet and then this damned serial killer began murdering those little girls. It..well things have been a little difficult..." 

"I'm sorry to hear that Carmen. Well, with any luck we should get this jerk. I'll do my best anyway to see we do get him fast." 

"We're going to have to, Mulder. We only have around 48 hours before he kills the Rhodes girl." 

"I know that Carmen. Let's...Why don't you fill me in on the most recent information you have. Then I'll tell you the theory I'm developing. If we exchange ideas I bet we can come up with a total picture and get this fucker dead to rights. How about it?" 

I turned sideways and stared into her profile. She was watching traffic but her attention had been on my every word. Her hands tightened on the steering wheel. I could see determination flow from her face through her entire body. 

Carmen Guitteraz smiled an almost feral looking grin of pleasure at the thought of getting the perp behind bars, "Oh yeah, Mulder. Nothing would give me greater pleasure." 

And as our car sped off towards the hotel in the mornings boiling sunlight, Carmen began to fill me in. As it turned out, she had been very perceptive in her theories and observations. The second crime in Baton Rouge had been that SAC Scott Adams had practically ignored everything she had had to say up to this point. Sweet Jesus. 

xXx 

*Four little maids all in a row* flitted like a dark, macabre shadow, through my mind as I stood in the morgue with the coroner, Carmen and the four little bodies each on a separate autopsy table. This room was cool. Under other conditions I would have reveled in the wonderful cool respite. But instead of making me feel better the morgue's AC made me feel cold to the bone way beyond the actual number on the thermometer. Hell, no matter how many times you face this situation, no matter how many times you prepare yourself for it - when the bodies under the sheets are this small even Spooky Mulder has some trouble dealing with it. 

Normally the air would stink of antiseptic, blood and other bodily fluids which could also add to the grotesque aspect of the scene. But, I could barely smell anything except the Vicks Vap-0-Rub the coroner had considerately supplied both Carmen and myself with. The whole room smelled like my chest used to smell when I had a cold as a kid. 

The coroner and the coroner's assistant had laid out everything in a very business like manner. Copies of their findings were all available. I'd read them all ready of course - back in DC - but I thanked them just the same. 

I examined each body for anything that might have been missed all the while wishing Scully were here. I'd barely had time to talk to her in San Diego from the hotel after I'd literally dumped my luggage in the room adjoining Walters. Walter barely had time to take a piss before he was headed out again for downtown. I'd excused myself to Carmen and she'd gone into Walter's empty room through the connecting door while I dialed Scully's cell phone number. It had been good to hear her voice. I learned that her brother had been moved from the critical to serious list in the hospital. I had told her I wished she were here and I'd heard the smile in her voice when she said she really did wish she was with me as well. I gave my love to her and her mother. When we hung up I thought just how valuable she was to me both as a life partner and as a job partner. She would have been a great asset here. I had an idea what I was looking for but it would have been nice if I could have had her expertise. But even without Dana Scully's decisive, intelligent autopsy findings I soon found what I was looking for. 

"Carmen do you remember your Old Testament?" 

"Some of it, why?"  

"Come here." 

Carmen joined me next to the first girls body. 

"Do you see these wounds - these are all blunt trauma injuries according to the report." 

"Right. Isn't that right, Dr. Murphy?" Carmen replied glancing back to confirm with the pathologist. 

The coroner had been standing by, staying out of the way while I made my examination. Point for him I thought. Also showed he had confidence in his work. He had been very thorough. He just hadn't but two and two together.  

"That's correct. Blunt force trauma, from trace evidence in the wounds I would say he used a rock. A rock high in granite content." 

"Uh huh. All the bodies exhibit the same type of wounds." 

"Mulder what are you getting at here?" Carmen asked in a whisper. 

"Well, you suggested in the car and I agreed that this perp is somehow mixing up a hatred of authority with some kind of biblical mania - the floating crosses made of hay and straw rushes point in that direction. Now what old Testament figure was found floating in a river..." 

"Moses!" 

"Bingo. Now look. What do these cuts on her forehead resemble?" 

"Well I don't know exactly, they look random." 

"Those are superficial cuts, Agent Mulder. Probably caused when the body was transported to the bayou. We all ready know he didn't kill them there."  

"I understand that but what you've overlooked here Dr. Murphy is that each of these girls is marked on the forehead with the Hebrew letters, G, E, L and N. The cuts may look random or superficial but they really aren't at all. They're just done delicately and are quite clear if you know Hebrew at all." 

Murphy walked over and stared down at each girls forehead in turn. "Shit, I'm Baptist, Agent Mulder. How..." 

"Look, it was easy to miss, ok. They don't look like letters if you aren't familiar with Hebrew - and I mean ancient Hebrew writing." 

"Mulder, the first four books of Moses are Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus..." Carmen began. 

"And Numbers..." Murphy finished for her, "Every good Baptist does know that, Agent Mulder. I...Good Lord...I don't know what to say...." 

"Forget it. Like I said - this is very specialized knowledge. The rest of your report is excellent. The blunt trauma is particularly important. You've all ready theorized the perp stoned these girls to death. I mean beat them to death with a rock. What type of rock?" 

"I said possibly granite or marble..." the coroner mused. 

"Like a..." 

"Like a gravestone," the coroner whispered, "Oh sweet Jesus..." 

"Moses..." Carmen corrected distantly as she stared at the four bodies. 

The coroner began to speak then into the cold, still air of the morgue. The hair on my neck stood on end as he spoke. 

"And God appeared to Moses on Mount Sinai and he commanded, "Thou shalt set bounds unto the people round about saying, Take heed to yourselves, that ye go not up into the mount, or touch the border of it: whosoever toucheth the mount shall be surely put to death: There shall not a hand touch it, but he shall surely be stoned, or shot through; whether it be beast or man, it shall not live..." 

"Or apparently little girls as well," I interjected, "Carmen I think we'd better get a look at the crime scenes now. It sounds like they're all close together according to the file." 

"Yeah, he's been consistent in dumping the bodies. They've all been found floating in practically the same stretch of bayou." 

"Good, that'll save time. We need to work fast and then get down to headquarters. I have to brief Skinner and then the investigative team as soon as possible before Ashley Rhodes ends up as *The Book of Deuteronomy*. 

xXx 

 

* * *

 

xXx 

It wasn't necessary to go over all the crime scenes as it turned out. Two were enough. I'd more than begun to formulate a theory. As we returned to headquarters at around noon I made some brief notes on what I needed to tell Walter. I thought distantly that I should have brought my lap top along. But I'd ditched it at the hotel thinking it too bulky to carry around and too delicate to be left in the hot Bu-car. Someone was going to need to retrieve it for me later so I could use it at headquarters. For now, I was resorting to the old fashioned method of writing in the little notebook Carmen had given me. It felt comforting somehow to see my thoughts go down in black and white. I needed all the comfort I could get by this point. 

I hoped to hell we would be in time to find the Rhodes girl before it was too late. Up until that point the killer had kept to a timetable. The bodies showed up after 72 hours and time of death placed at not long before discovery. He left the girls in an area where they would be seen floating by someone within a relatively short period of time. It showed the killer was bold. Confident that he could take risks and not be caught. The cocky bastard was shoving the dead kids down the FBI's throat because no one had caught on to what he was really trying to say with his crimes. 

But I was afraid that he was going to escalate. Decrease his timetable because of all the extra publicity - the prospect of tweaking his nose at the DC experts would really excite him. Get him hot to trot. He'd kill the Rhodes girl sooner then we planned and then dump her somewhere really public. Maybe she'd be found floating in a public park or fountain instead of the bayou this time. Some really spectacular spot to create optimum horror and panic. The press would eat us alive as a result and the perp would jerk himself off with every new front page headline. Groovy. I just love maniacs. Shit. 

The large meeting room set aside as command central for the Rhodes case at Headquarters was awash with agents working phones, studying maps, interviewing witnesses and just generally doing everything in their power to find their man. 

As Carmen and I entered the room, all eyes seemed to turn in our direction. It was obvious what they were all thinking. Here comes the answer man. And just like a jury coming in to render a verdict, all eyes followed us as we walked past the desks and tables filled with agents. I kept my eyes straight ahead. I had spotted AD Skinner all ready and kept my attention focused on getting to him as quickly as possible with my information. 

Walter was near the back of the room, standing next to a long table with a huge city map on it. The table stood in front of a wide window that ran almost the entire length of one wall. Sunlight streamed through it and I thought - God what a stupid architectural design. The damn greenhouse effect was making the AC work overtime. It wasn't quite keeping up with that blast furnace effect. The room was tepid. And I was still sweating, ragged from being out at the crime scenes. Lord. 

Walter was talking with ASAC Johnson Matthews. I didn't see SAC Adams anywhere near by. O-K. So, something had obviously happened. I supposed I'd find out in time. I let myself study Walter as he stood in the bright, hot sunlight streaming through the window. 

He had taken his suit coat off and rolled up his shirt sleeves. He was sweating a little again. His forearm hair gave off a golden glow in the reflected sun. I thought he looked even more like a bronze statue standing there. I swallowed hard as I watched him move to point at the map that was spread out on the table in front of him and Matthews. He looked like some big cat, fluid, tensed to spring into action. Hell, Mulder, rein it in here son I thought. I felt that hound dog hormone thing going on again and I struggled monumentally against it. I really did not need to let my dick rule my head right now. Please no. Now was not the time. I bit my lip hard in concentration. I caught Carmen looking at me with a quizzical expression on her face. 

"Would you like a coffee or a soda, Mulder? I...I'm going to get a Coke before I pass out from dehydration," she offered. 

I drew my attention away from the object of my inappropriate fantasies. 

"Yeah, I could really use some Ice Tea if you have any. If you don't, a Coke will be fine. And hell, could you get me some paper towels. I feel like I've taken a bath in my suit." 

"I'll see what I can rustle up. I'll be back as soon as I can. Mulder, why don't you take your suit coat back off for crying out loud. I thought DC got humid too. You should know better," she patted my arm quickly to temper her words, and was gone. 

"Hell yeah, I knew better. I'd taken it off at the crime scenes. But carrying the fucking thing in the heat had almost been too much as well. And DC humidity was nothing like Baton Rouge. The air felt like molasses in comparison. 

I continued my progress over to the AD and ASAC, removing my coat and loosening my tie as I did. Walter caught my approach and motioned for me to come over. 

"Mulder. Good. Do you have something to report?" 

"Yes, sir. Whenever you're ready." I threw my jacket over a chair. 

"Is Agent Guitteraz with you? I'd like to hear what she has to say as well." 

"She's getting us something to drink. We were both pretty parched." 

"Oh. Well that's fine. I need to tell you what's happened here anyway". He turned to nod at Matthews. 

"Mulder, you'll be addressing Johnson here as SAC Matthews from this point on. Scott Adams is no longer SAC for this local office. He's still here, and as far as the public and press is concerned he's still SAC. But internally he's history. I've put him out in the field going door to door canvassing additional witnesses. We need every bit of manpower we've got otherwise he'd be on medical leave of absence right now. As it is, as soon as this case is closed he'll be transferred to...some less stressful office." 

The implication in Walter's words was that Scott Adams career with the FBI was over. The Senator would see to that even if Walter didn't do it. So, Walter was acting as hatchet man mostly out of inevitability. I could tell by his expression and tone of voice that he wasn't totally happy about facing that kind of outside pressure. But he wasn't completely angry that he was doing the deed. He was really pissed at Adams and the fact that he was letting him down easy at all was testament to Walter's humanity as a boss more than anything else.  

I nodded my head at Matthews. 

"So, what do you have for us, Agent Mulder?" the new SAC asked me just as Carmen returned with a cold Lipton's Brisk Ice Tea and her Coke Classic. 

"Here you go, Mulder," she said handing me the tea. She also handed me a wad of paper towels which I gratefully accepted. I swabbed my face and neck quickly with those, scrunched them up and then tossed them for a rim shot in a nearby wastebasket. I felt a bit better with a dry face. I gave my attention back to Walter. 

"Agent Guitteraz, I want to let you know..." Walter began to tell her about the change in the chain of command. Just as he started to speak there was a growing murmur of voices from the front of the room. 

Matthews looked up, "Oh shit," he cursed gesturing with his head. 

Walter looked in the direction we indicated and Carmen and I did the same. 

"Christ on a crutch," Walter swore. Standing at the front of the room with a small group of his own people, and talking to one of the senior field agents, was Senator Andrew Rhodes in all his florid glory. Little Ashley Rhodes must have been a late in life child for him. At least it looked like it. Rhodes appeared to be older than Walter, with a full head of carefully coifed steel gray hair. 

The senior agent was pointing in our direction and Rhodes was nodding and then sweeping towards us like a battleship, his entourage surrounding him like tugs piloting the ship into port. Any port in a storm I thought, as I watched Walter tensing to meet the Senators intrusion. 

As Rhodes drew close I could see the look of worry on his face. He looked like shit actually in his expensively tailored Brooks Brothers suit. So, the Senator must really love his little daughter. I felt my stomach go into knots at the prospect of what might happen to the little girl if we didn't find the perp in time. Obviously Rhodes had the same thing in mind. He reached our table and without even extending his hand addressed Walter. 

"Walter, now what are you going to do about finding my baby?" Oh boy I thought. The guys hands were shaking. He was pretty much near the breaking point all ready. 

"Andrew I..." 

"Walter, this is horrible, my poor wife..." 

"Andrew, Look. Let's go into this office over here for a minute so we can talk alone. Mulder, would you wait here. I'll want you in a few minutes."  

I nodded my head again and watched as Walter took Andrew Rhodes gently by the arm and steered him into the nearby office and shut the door behind them. It seemed like the room let out a collective sigh of relief. The Senators entourage of five hangers on stuck together like a school of fish, but savvy fish - they knew enough to shut up and stay out of the way to one side of the room. I turned my attention to both Matthews and Carmen. I pulled the tab on my ice tea and took a healthy swig. It tasted delicious. 

"I feel for that man," Matthews ventured. 

"Yeah, that kid is his only child. Late in life kid like that too - it's a shame." Carmen interjected. 

"Is his wife younger?" I asked just out of curiosity. 

"Yeah. He's about 60 I think and she's 35 or so. He married late in life but they had the kid pretty quick. He's OK as politicos go. Not any worse then most. Better than some. I hate to see him lose his daughter, though." Matthews replied fixing me with his cool, steady gaze.  

"I hope he won't either, sir. I'll try to see that doesn't happen. But we're going to have to work fast. I don't think we have as much time as we originally thought to find her..." 

"What do you mean?" Matthews asked. 

Just as I was about to answer him the door to the office opened and Walter stuck his head out. 

"Mulder?" he said gesturing for me to come into the room. I set the can of ice tea down on the table next to the map, picked up my suit coat, and started to turn to join the AD. But I needed to tell Carmen one last thing. 

"Carmen, can you fill in SAC Matthews please. I may be awhile here. Thanks." I asked Carmen with a slight grin. She didn't know about the change in command yet of course. Both her eyebrows shot up and then she smiled wide at Matthews. I turned and left them both by the table as Carmen began to explain the lay of the land to her new boss. 

xXx 

"Mulder, come in," Walter held the door for me and I entered the smaller room. I had shrugged into my jacket again so I'd look more formal. Walter once again shut the door behind us. His face was impassive but I could see a jaw muscle jump. Senator Rhodes was seated at a round table to one side with a paper cup of water from the nearby water cooler sitting in front of him. His face was ashen. 

"Andrew, this is Fox Mulder. I just wanted you to meet him. Agent Mulder is profiling the perpetrator. He's the best, Andrew, really. He's going to get this sick fuck." 

Rhodes looked up at me and smiled weakly. 

"I'd like to say it's a pleasure to meet you sir, but under the circumstances..." 

Rhodes nodded his head, "I more than understand, Agent Mulder. May I call you Fox?" 

"Yes sir." 

"Fox, Senator Matheson speaks very highly of you. I...I just hope you haven't, that you and Walter haven't been called in too late to do any good. God, that jerkwad Adams. I could string him up by his balls." 

"Andrew, Scott Adams' career with the Bureau is, for all intents and purposes, over. I wouldn't give that incompetent idiot another thought. Let's just concentrate on getting your little girl back safe now, all right?" Walter interjected softly. He had walked over to Rhodes and placed a hand on his shoulder. 

"All right, Walter. Agent Mulder, can you tell me anything new. Anything that will help to find Ashley?" 

Oh Great I thought. I wasn't sure I wanted to tell the Senator my findings. First of all the true Modus Operandi and possible psychopathology of the killer were horrific enough. My conclusion that he was going to escalate wasn't what I thought the Senator wanted to hear at all. I glanced up into Walter's face. Once again he was very perceptive. When he spoke it was to the Senator. 

"Andrew, Agent Mulder hasn't even briefed me yet. I need to talk to him, and then he needs to brief the team as soon as possible. If you'd like to be present for that briefing I have no objections. Uh, but Andrew, it's going to be rough. I'm not going to gloss that over. I'm going to have to knock some heads and then we're going to be talking about the victims and in view of what you're going through I feel I need to warn you that may be extremely unpleasant for you." 

"Listen, Walter. I appreciate your saying all that, really. But...I just have to know. It's the not knowing that's driving Stacey, my wife, and I crazy. If I can just get a handle on the new direction the investigation is going to take and maybe have something concrete to report back to my poor wife then I'll be satisfied for now. I'll handle the briefing the best I can. I want to be included, please, Walter. Can you do that for me?" 

I watched Walter let out a long breath. His face softened then and he looked really very kind. I marveled at how he was rising to the occasion here. I also marveled at just how good he looked when his face wasn't a hard tight mask. He looked more handsome, tender, gentle and...I squelched those thoughts and keyed in on his professional abilities. Safer thoughts. I didn't expect anything less then professional acuity from him really. Walter Skinner is an excellent manager and people person. A keen observer of human nature in his own right. He knew just where to bend when necessary. This was one of those times. 

"All right, Andrew. Why don't you and your people go down to the cafeteria and get a late lunch or something. I'll send an agent down with all of you to take care of anything else you should want. When the briefing is going to begin I'll send someone else to bring you back up here." 

"Thank you, Walter," Rhodes replied, relief etched in every inch of his body. He got up, leaving the little paper cup of water on the table and advanced to Walter taking his hand. He shook it and said, "Walter I just want to thank you. No matter what happens I know you're doing your best. Stacey and I really appreciate it. Hell, the citizens of Baton Rouge appreciate it." 

Walter smiled tersely tight-lipped. The last part was political bullshit and he didn't appreciate hearing it under these conditions and from a reasonably close acquaintance. But he swallowed the ire and shook Rhodes hand firmly in return. 

"Thanks Andrew. I appreciate the vote of confidence." 

Rhodes let go of his hand and took mine in turn. He did have a firm if somewhat shaky grip. 

"And thank you too Agent Mulder. May God be with you." 

"Yes sir," I answered. God had better be with me or his little girl would be doing her baby Moses imitation up close and personal with God before too long I thought with disgust. 

Walter moved to open the conference room door. Rhodes walked out and motioned for his entourage to gather round. As he began to explain to them what was going to happen next, Walter called over one of the field agents and whispered into his ear. 

"You're off the phones for a while, Phillips. Take the Senator and his crew down to the cafeteria and sit on them. I want them sequestered, kept incommunicado until I'm ready to let them back up here for the briefing. Get them whatever they want to eat or drink, magazines to read, whatever. But keep them down there and don't let anyone in or out of that room. The rest of us can use the vending machines until after the briefing. Do you understand?" 

"Yes sir. Keep them under wraps until you give the word." 

"Very good son. Now get going." 

Phillips went to tap Rhodes on the arm and Walter came back in the office and shut the door. 

He crossed over to the table, picked up the paper cup of water and threw it in the wastebasket nearby then he motioned for me to sit down across from him. I took the proffered seat. 

I sat and watched as he removed his specs and cleaned them on the handkerchief he took out of his pants pocket. His jaw wasn't clenching as much but he looked tired, pinched. 

"Would you like a Coke or something cold to drink, sir? I could..." 

He looked up at me, "Drink? No, that's fine. Thanks. I had something just a little while ago." He gave me one of his terse little twitchy grins and placed his glasses back on. Then he got serious, pinning my eyes with his.  

"Mulder, I've worked with you long enough to know what that look on your face means. We're in deep shit aren't we?" 

I let out a ragged sigh. 

"Tell me this kid isn't going to die, Mulder." 

"I wish I could say no, sir." 

"I was afraid you'd say that. This guy's going to escalate isn't he?" 

"That's my thought on the matter. Did you want Agent Guiterraz in here now, sir? I left her outside to fill in SAC Matthews." 

"In a minute. I want you to tell me how many hours we may have left here first. I have to consider damage control now too -what to do if this kids body shows up. I need to...I need to know what the fuck I'm going to tell her parents and the press if we don't get to her in time."

"I'd say less then 24 hours, sir. I think he'll do her and dump her someplace really public this time. She's apt to be floating in the fountain out front if this asshole is as bold as I think he is." 

"Fuck." 

"Yeah." 

Walter ran a hand over his mouth, "All right. Go get Guitteraz. I want to hear what she has to say too. She knows the area. Maybe she's got some bright ideas. From what I've seen of the evidence this guy is good. Very clever. Getting to him is going to be like finding a friggin' needle in a haystack." 

I got up and walked over to the door. Carmen was sitting at the table with Matthews obviously explaining what had become our theory as quickly as possible. As I called to her to come in Walter said, "Tell Johnson to join us as well. He should hear all this too." 

Both Johnson Matthews and Carmen entered and we all sat down around the table. It was pretty close quarters. Matthews had fished out some legal pads and pencils from a nearby desk for us to all take notes on. We settled ourselves and sat staring at Walter to see how he wanted us to proceed. Walter sat back away from the table, attempting to put us at ease by trying to look more relaxed himself. He studied us in return. Sun from the window flashed on his lenses. He finally spoke. 

"Agent Mulder, I'd like for you to go ahead and tell us all what you think we're up against. Then Agent Guitteraz I'd like to hear what you have to say. Johnson, if you have any ideas can you save them for last. I think I'd like to get all this in small doses here so my God damn head doesn't explode." 

"I hear you, Walter," Matthews smiled grimly. He sat back with his arms behind his head and waited for yours truly to give my recitation. 

"First of all I want to say that I don't think we have as much time as we thought to catch this guy. With all the extra publicity and the opportunity to tweak his nose at the DC FBI along with you folks he'll want to strike while the iron's hot. So I think the Rhodes girl has less then 24 hours to live."

"Shit," Matthews cursed." 

Carmen looked down at her hands. 

"Also I think he's going to float her boat someplace very public. Like a park, golf course or hell - maybe even a city fountain. I think he's getting ready to escalate out of control here. It just feels that way to me, and he'll want to cause as much public panic as possible because he'll get off on it." 

"So should we be telling the Baton Rouge PD to patrol the parks more heavily?" Matthews asked. 

"Wouldn't hurt. But by the time you catch him in the park it will be too late. He'll be dumping the body." 

"So you're suggesting a manhunt?" Walter asked, "a house to house search?" 

"I'm getting to that, sir. If you'll bear with me." 

"Sorry, go on."  

"Ok. Basically we are looking for a male - likely unless we're looking at something even more bizarre here - from the evidence of rape. I'd say he'll fit the stereotypical serial killer profile in that he's more than likely between the ages of 25 to 35, of above average intelligence and white -they found Caucasian hair samples on the last girls body. When we bring the perp in, the semen and hair DNA analysis should tell us that we have the right man." 

"Right, we're prepared there, Agent Mulder. Now what else can you tell us to help collar this sucker?" Matthews asked again. 

"His MO is rather unique and I think that's the clue to apprehending him. We need to find a man who has real trouble with authority yet is in a position of authority. Also - he is deeply religious, maybe even involved in a church somehow. I don't think he's a priest, but he may be a lay minister or just someone who is very involved in his local parish. His pathology is such that he's using the sections of the Bible that deal with Moses to teach us all a lesson. I think - and I know I'm missing a piece of the puzzle here - but I think these kids - I think maybe they did something in his eyes - broke some rule, some infraction that he's blown up into a killing offense. Remember - we're dealing with someone who isn't operating in the real world here. These little girls could have done something as simple trespassed on his lawn and he equates that with walking all over Mount Sinai and offs them to fulfill that quote in the Bible. 

"You mean the one about God telling Moses anyone trespassing on Mount Sinai should be stoned to death?" Matthews asked incredulously. 

"Yes, sir," Carmen replied, "The coroner picked up on that idea right away. He had...well he'd overlooked the Hebrew letters on the girls heads that corresponded to the first four Books of Moses. Agent Mulder says that was easy to overlook however unless you knew ancient Hebrew." She smiled slightly at me and then she continued, "But he hadn't overlooked the fact that the girls were stoned to death." 

"Right, I knew they were killed by blunt trauma." Matthews nodded. 

"So they were stoned to death?" Walter interrupted, "I read that in the coroners report about the granite dust. I just thought..." 

"Sir, my guess is he bashed them to death with pieces of a gravestone. I think he quite possibly kills them near a church with an attached graveyard or near a cemetery and then disposes of the bodies in the bayou on those floating crosses to keep with the Moses motif. I think he's trying to send a warning that his version of biblical law should never be broken, by anyone on penalty of death." 

"Christ," Walter exclaimed, "But you said there was a piece you were missing?" 

"Yeah, I can't help feeling that...well somehow I think these kids are connected somehow. I'm leaning towards the perp knowing them or at least being familiar with them all. Otherwise I don't think he could have taken them so easily." 

Carmen interrupted me at this point and I was glad she did. I was beginning to run out of steam a little. I was grateful that she was taking up the slack. I think fatigue from the heat was catching up a little with me. "Agent Mulder and I would like to go over all the files on the girls again, sir to see if we can find some kind of common denominator. Something they had in common that might have put them near their killer. Like they all went to the same McDonalds or..." 

"A McDonalds near a church or graveyard?" Walter asked with a raised eyebrow, "Because if I hear you right we need to find a guy hanging out near a church or cemetery lying in wait for little girls so he can bop them with a headstone and then carve Hebrew letters in their foreheads because they might have picked his prize petunias. Am I close here, Agent Mulder?" 

"That about sums it up, sir." 

"There are a lot of churches in Baton Rouge, Mulder. And a lot of cemeteries," Matthews added his two cents. 

"I know that sir. But how many are near the bayous, and which ones might be near something else these little girls had in common? That's why I think Carmen and I need to go over the files. In the meantime, a house to house canvassing near each of the crime scenes to question witnesses again wouldn't be a bad idea. And also I think beefing up Baton Rouge police patrols in parks and near other public bodies of water might not be a bad idea either." 

Walter was studying my face closely. He ran a large hand over the back of his neck. I could see the wheels turning behind those deep brown eyes of his. Come on Walter, I thought. You know I'm right. Let's not waste any more time.

He glanced at his watch. 

"Agent Guitteraz, do you agree with Agent Mulder's assessment of the facts based on your previous knowledge of the case?" 

"Yes sir. Everything Agent Mulder has said is as close as we're going to get to the facts at this point." 

"What Carmen is too modest to admit, sir, is that she'd come up with some of this theory all ready. SAC Adams ignored most of her opinions," I sighed. I might as well give her the credit. She more then deserved it. 

"So I gather. Johnson here all ready told me about it. He also tells me Adams did the same with a lot of his theories as well." 

"Fraid so," Matthews added somewhat bitterly. 

Walter set his jaw and sat up straight in his chair, "Well, I'm not going to ignore any of it. Mulder and Guitteraz I want you to handle the briefing together. Lay it all out on the table just like you did here. Don't pull any punches. This group has to know there is very little time left to find that girl. Johnson, once the briefing is done I want you to organize that house to house and then get in touch with the local PD. Tell them SAC Adams is asking you to authorize the extra patrols. If they argue about it tell them to see me. I'll need to handle the Senator unfortunately, after this briefing. I don't imagine he's going to take any of it too well. Then, Johnson I want you and I to get ready for the press conference. Mulder and Guitteraz, you can start going over the files at that point." 

"We can use my office, Walter, if that's all right with you. Mulder, you and Carmen are welcome to use this office so the two of you can have some privacy." 

"Thanks," I said.  

"Yes, that's fine, Johnson. So...that's may battle plan. Any questions or comments?" Walter finished by adding. 

"Sir, not that I want to be mundane here - but I think we could all use something to eat. I don't think it's a good idea to skip meals under the circumstances. We're going to need the energy." I suggested. I couldn't help it. I was starving and thirsty again too. I didn't want to get a headache from lack of food or dehydrated in the summer heat from lack of fluids. Wouldn't do at all to have your premiere profiler passing out on the job. 

"Oh yeah. Well the cafeteria will be less busy after the briefing. Why don't we get them to bring us up some sandwiches. That way we can keep working." Walter suggested 

"Works for me," I nodded. I just hoped my stomach wasn't going to growl during the briefing. Somehow I didn't think my complaining gut would help convey the real gravity of the situation. 

xXx 

The briefing went well. Everyone realized the time element involved and the need for speed. Matthews coordinated everyone's assignments after Carmen and I completed our presentation. Walter gave his pep talk about teamwork etc. I observed him take total command of the room. He wasn't sweating at all then for some reason. He looked incredible. Authoritative, inspiring. Everyone in the room wanted to bust their humps for the guy to find little Ashley or die trying. I wanted to bust something else but I shoved the thought into the back of my smutty little mind as I watched Walter rally the troops.  

He didn't knock individual heads for the failure of the investigation so far. He was fair. He just cited what had happened to SAC Adams, and informed everyone regarding their new SAC, Johnson Matthews. Walter implied that he was perfectly willing to take that SAC Adams career change idea right down the line if need be to the lowest clerk in the office if that person wasn't doing his or her job to the utmost of their abilities. Nuff said. 

At the conclusion of the briefing and the reports from the senior agents in charge, Walter turned the meeting over to Matthews to let him give out his first assignments as SAC. Everyone went about their assigned tasks. Walter took Senator Rhodes aside in private. The Senator had handled things better then we expected but he was still shaken. Walter sent him home to his wife to comfort her and wait. Rhodes was best out of the picture so the agents didn't have to see him wringing his hands over the next 24 or so hours. Johnson Matthews and Walter went to Matthews office to prepare for the press conference. 

Carmen and I went back to the smaller office with a shitload of files. Both of us took off our tailored suit coats again, slung them over chairs, rolled up *our* sleeves and got cracking. Lunch appeared. The cafeteria worker left a box full of sandwiches and sodas with us. 

Carmen laughed, "I bet that woman thought we were all still meeting in here. Ill take some of these over to Matthew's office." 

"Hey, that's ok. I can do it. Why don't you keep reading through those files? You're local, you may spot something more quickly at this point. Besides - I have to use the facilities anyway." I felt like my bladder was bursting by this point. I planned on hitting the can before I delivered the sandwiches and sodas. 

"Do you know where his office is?" 

"Yeah, I saw which way AD Skinner and SAC Matthews were headed." 

"Ok. Just down the hall. His name is on the door. The men's room in on the way. And Mulder..." 

"Yeah." 

"Leave me the ham and Swiss, ok?" she chuckled bending back to read the file in front of her. 

"Will do," I smiled. I pulled several sandwiches, ice teas and Cokes out of the box and leaving the remainder in it headed out of the room and down the hallway towards Matthews office. 

I made a quick detour to the men's room, leaving the box outside on the floor in the hallway. I hoped no one would kick it over. But I didn't think there would be anywhere to put it in the men's room. I had been right. I took my piss, retrieved the box and continued down the hall.  

I reached Matthew's office door, and balancing the box, knocked on it. 

"Come," Walter replied from inside. I switched the box under one arm and grasping the door handle, twisted it. I levered the door open with my hip and entered the room. 

Walter was alone. He was sitting in a chair looking out the window over the city of Baton Rouge. I wondered - where the hell is Matthews? But I didn't think about Matthews for long. I started to think about Walter almost at once. To think about his wide, muscular back. The sweet view of his neck just above his collar. There was just a little sweat below his hairline. His...oh brother. Not good, Mulder. Not good at all. I swallowed hard and hefted the box of sandwiches up in my hands. 

"A cafeteria worker brought this box of sandwiches and sodas up to the other office. Carmen figured she thought we were all still meeting in there," I said quietly. 

Walter didn't turn his head from the window. Instead he just started to talk in a very quiet, dreamy voice. 

"You know, Baton Rouge is a really lovely city. I was down here once, years ago...one of my first cases. It's changed a lot but it...it's still quite a graceful city." 

I watched the back of his neck. He looked stiff. His shoulders looked really tight. The back of his shirt was a little stained with perspiration. I put the box down on a low table just inside the door and walked over to stand in back of his chair. I looked out the window as well. 

"It's a lot like New Orleans without the Mardi Gras trappings," I replied. 

"Mardi Gras, shit. That's a zoo". His chuckle was barely audible, "Have you ever been to Mardis Gras, Mulder?" he added in that calm, slightly distracted voice again. 

"No, sir." 

"You should come down here for it. Baton Rouge may not look like it has Mardis Gras, but it does. The party is almost as wild as the New Orleans shindig."  

I did something then that, well, I knew was a stupid thing to do, but I went ahead and did it anyway. I couldn't stop myself. I guess it was just a reaction to the moment. Or my hopping hormones rearing their horny little heads. Or maybe just the fact that I knew Walter Skinner was under a lot of stress, hurting right at that moment in time. 

I reached forward and touched his shoulders with both my hands and then I started to knead the stiff muscles at the base of his neck. I felt him stiffen up immediately. I thought oh shit, I've done it now. Here comes the kick in the ass. But he didn't say anything. In fact, he relaxed suddenly and leaned back against me, allowing my hands to work his corded tendons all the way down into his back. 

I tried to keep my touch as impersonal as possible. To just act like this was a co-worker, a friend doing a service for another friend in a very bad situation to relieve some tension. But it was a struggle. And as Walter's tension started to leave his muscles it started to creep into mine. And one muscle in particular. But I still couldn't stop. And for some reason I got the idea that Walter didn't want me to stop either. Maybe it was the fact that his warm, heavy, back was resting against my cock and balls and he wasn't going out of his way to shift forward. Jesus he smelled good. What the hell is that aftershave, cologne? Old Spice? Hell, I think my father used to wear.... 

I felt like I should say something at that point. I was almost afraid to speak but I went ahead and took a chance. 

"You...you looked really tight, sir. I...I do this for Scully sometimes. It always helps." Christ did I have to stammer? I thought. 

He made a small noncommittal noise in his throat and let his head sag down against his chest. 

I continued to apply pressure to all the knotted spots I could find all the while wondering where the hell Matthews was, but not caring in the least as long as he stayed away for as long as possible. I wanted to keep touching Walter. I didn't want to stop at all. 

"Is this good?" I asked in a whisper as I rotated his shoulders. 

"Yeah. Great," he rumbled, his voice muffled against his chest. I stopped rotating his arms and went back to the massage, loosening kink after kink as I moved my hands all over his back. 

I let my mind wander to images of what it would be like if his shirt and t-shirt were off. I'd seen him in the gym weight room a couple of times stripped to the waist. That's why I knew he looked like that Rodin stature. He was in great shape for a 46 year old guy. God, I would just like ...someday...to touch...to touch...stroke his naked....ssskin...I wasn't paying attention. I had let my hands stray to either side of his head and my impersonal touch had turned to more of a caress. 

"Mulder..." 

I held my breath. Oh God, I'm a dead man." 

"Sir?" I choked out. 

"Agent Scully is a very lucky woman." 

My mouth dropped open, but before I could say anything else I heard someone clear their throat behind me. I let go of Walter's head like I'd been burned. I was incredibly hot. I was partly erect and my breath had picked up enough that my arousal was going to be obvious to whoever was standing behind me. I thought - please don't let it be Matthews. But what if it was...oh shit. I turned around to see Carmen Guittiraz standing in the doorway, my cell phone in her hand and a puzzled, but amused look on her face. 

"Agent Mulder, you're cell phone was ringing so I took the liberty of answering it. It's your partner, Dana Scully, calling from San Diego." 

"Speak of the devil," I just managed to croak out. I beat a hasty retreat away from Walter's chair and I could hear him stand up behind me. I reached Carmen's side in three quick strides and relieved her of my cell phone.  

"Thanks Carmen. I'll be back down to the other office in a couple of minutes." She grinned at me slightly. Looked from me back over to Walter and turning on her heel disappeared from whence she had come. Oh wonderful. She must have been standing there long enough to see me feeling up my boss. OK. Well the ball was in her court. I wasn't going to bring up the issue if she didn't say anything. If she did I'd cross that bridge when I came to it. I put the cell phone to my ear and spoke into the opposite end. 

"Scully can you hang on a second? I need to finish up with AD Skinner." Finish up? Oh fuck, no kidding. I was more than finished. I was very well done meat. Burned toast. Oh crap. 

"All right, Mulder. I'll hang on," Scully replied from the other end. She sounded much less tense. It sounded like good news was in the offing. I felt a bit better thinking about her. I let my mind focus on thoughts of Scully. Thinking of Scully started to drive Walter out of my mind. 

I turned towards Walter where he was standing with his back against the windows now. The sun made him nothing but a black outline. I couldn't see his face, the expression on it or the one in his eyes. But his posture told me that he'd more than known what I'd been doing. Known and wasn't quite sure how to react. But he wasn't leaning towards anger. If anything his posture was attentive. Questioning. I mulled that idea over for a split second and then decided I really wanted to get back to talking to Scully. 

"I'll just take this call down the hall," I told him gesturing out the door. 

"Fine, Agent Mulder," he replied in that gruff voice of his, "thanks for bringing in the sandwiches and sodas." He turned away from me again and his gaze took in the city view once more. 

O-K. So he wasn't going to say anything right now either. Fine by me. I'd just as soon put a bag over my head and hide my shame then talk to him about what just happened. I nodded in understanding and left in a big, hurry, passing Johnson Matthews as he walked back up the hallway, his arms full of files. 

xXx

Scully' brother had turned the corner and was going to pull through. He'd have a long recuperation ahead of him but with any luck he'd be able to return to duty eventually. Scully was going to spend another week helping her sister-in-law to deal with the situation and then she and her mother would fly back to DC together. I wished her and her family well, told her I missed her terribly (which was really true at that point) and I looked forward to seeing her back in DC. I didn't dwell on the case. She had seen enough of it in the news to know it was horrendous. I didn't see the need to make her worry about me when she had enough on her mind all ready. She would certainly be seeing a lot more news soon anyway after the press conference. 

After the call I'd gone back to join Carmen Guitteraz in the second office where she sat up to her ears in case files.

I entered silently, leaving the door open to keep the AC circulating to a bearable level. I grabbed a sandwich and can of ice tea and sat down across from her at the round table. I was surprised to see my laptop resting there.

Carmen noticed my raised eyebrows. 

"I had Agent Sanders go to your hotel room and retrieve your laptop. I hope you don't mine. I hate the things personally. But I'm somewhat of a Luddite. Ted used to make fun of me..." she let her voice trail off, a furrow on her brow. 

"Oh, hey, no problem. Thanks. Scully tells me my lap top and cell phone are like my security blankets. She's probably right. I appreciate you having it brought down." 

She nodded and went back to her files. I opened the laptop and booted it up. I had some additional information in the thing on the Old Testament I thought. Something I'd stored from a couple of X-Files ago. Maybe it would help I thought as I grabbed for a file from the stack sitting between us while the PC woke up. 

The clock on the wall said 3:15 PM. Not much time left until the press conference. I had hoped we'd have that last piece of the puzzle by that point. I would have liked to be able to hand Walter the pigs head on a platter so he could stand up in front of the media and say - "We got our man." And preferably got him before he'd added Ashley to the list of victims. But it looked like those prospects were fading fast. Carmen and I were working our asses off and not making much headway. But we were working well together. Smoothly. if something was to be found I thought we'd be more then capable of finding it. And I really did think the last clue was somewhere in the morass of data sitting on that table.

It felt so close... 

Besides the hard work giving me the idea that a solution was very close at hand, the only other good thing about the short time factor and nose to the grindstone demeanor of both myself and Carmen was that it eliminated any *Nosey Parker* questions from my liaison. She was curious about what had gone on between Walter and me earlier. I did catch her giving me a couple of appraising looks but that was all. As I ate my ham and Swiss cheese sandwich and drank my tea she ate hers and sipped on another Coke Classic. We were both on cold caffeine. Not a bad idea I thought. Both of us buried our heads in files and plunged on.  

4:00 PM rolled around and Walter came in through the office door. 

"Mulder?" I looked up and read the obvious question on his face. 

"Nothing yet, Carmen?" 

"No. I'm tracing the girl's whereabouts on the day each of them was taken right now - but so far zilch." 

"All right, Look. I don't want either of you at this press conference. I'd just as soon have you up here continuing to work on this angle. There isn't much time and I don't think your talents should be wasted fielding idiot questions from the fucking media." 

"I appreciate that, sir." I replied. No shit. I knew what the newshounds would want from me. My *Close Encounters of the Third Kind* life story. Walter knew it too. Neither one of us wanted my work on the X-Files to detract from the importance of this case. I'd probably stay in seclusion up here unless I was really needed in the field - which I hoped I wasn't. I'd be perfectly content to play Mycroft Holmes in the FBI Diogenes club, solving the case in my head to the successful conclusion. Fine by me. When the time was right I'd even let Carmen take all the credit and deal with the press as well. She'd do just fine in that area. 

"I thought you might, Mulder," Walter nodded a knowing smile just gracing his lips, "Johnson and I have come up with a prepared statement anyway. I don't intend to answer very many questions either. We're going to release to the press just enough information about the case and the perp to get the public involved a bit in trying to apprehend him. I don't like this idea but Senator Rhodes is offering a reward. His representative will be in on the press conference as well," he shook his head and pushed his glasses up his nose, "I guess that will divert some attention off me at least," he sighed and gave us a tight smile. Despite the put upon attitude Walter seemed a bit refreshed. He was gearing up for battle. His eyes were alert and sharp. Shit he looked good I thought. Yeah, like a God damn Greek General at the walls of Troy. I smiled back. So did Carmen. 

"Having the citizens of Baton Rouge acting as eyes and ears can't be too bad an idea, sir," Carmen added kindly. She was studying Walter carefully. I could tell she respected him. She knew he was working hard to see things were done right and came to the best conclusion if at all possible. 

"I hope we're right there but I do tend to agree with you, Agent Guitteraz. So, you two keep plugging away too. If you come up with anything we can use - sing out." 

"We will sir," I replied. 

"Good luck," Carmen added. 

Walter nodded and then he ran his hand over his chin. He grinned a little wider, "Hell, I'd better see if Johnson has a razor. I left mine in the hotel. I don't want to go downstairs looking like a God damn street person."  

"No danger of that, sir," I chimed in a bit too brightly, eagerness in my voice before I thought better of it. Oh shit. Way to go Mulder. Let's just tell him he looks like your mental picture of a Greek Warrior and that you're warm all over because...Oh hell." 

Walter raised an eyebrow and pinned my eyes. Something passed across his face, an intense look that caused me to swallow hard and press my legs together under the table. Carmen was glancing from one of us to the other again. 

"Johnson has an electric razor in his office, sir. I'm sure he'd be happy to let you use it," she interjected quickly, defusing the electricity in the air. 

Walter's eyes lifted from mine and I felt like a rabbit that had been released suddenly from the hawk's predatory gaze. His eyes relaxed their heated look a bit and settled back into their former ready for battle alertness. He focused on Carmen. 

"Thank you, Agent Guitteraz. I'll probably ask him to use it." He nodded one more time, turned and was gone. I let my breath out in a rush. I hadn't even been aware I was holding it. 

"He's kind of intense isn't he?" Carmen asked carefully. 

"Intense? He's a slave driver," I said absentmindedly. Slave? Oh yeah. I wanted to be his slave. His naked, oiled up boy toy, fanning his hard, muscled, reclining....Oh Jesus. I was still staring at the spot Walter had just vacated. I thought in panic for a moment that if I wasn't careful I'd be panting, drooling or letting my tongue hang out in a second. I pulled my eyes away from the door and back over to Carmen's face. 

Oh Fuck I thought instantly. The look on her face told me one thing before she slammed it down into impassive regard. Busted. She knew where I was coming from all right as far as Walter was concerned. Great. I could see the unasked question before she sealed her face up tight. She was almost as good as Scully at masking her emotions. Almost but not quite. I thought I had to say something. Maybe it wasn't a good idea but my gut was ruling my head right then I had the urge to either scream of try to deflect the situation. I opted for deflection. 

"Carmen..." I began. 

"Look, Mulder. Uh, let's not go there right now, OK. I...we can talk later. I really think we need to concentrate on these files. Don't worry about it. Just...which file is that you're looking at now?" 

I stared at her for a second. Yeah. She was more than right. Shit. My rampaging hormones and sex fantasies were the last thing that should be on the table here. We needed to get down to business and get down to it fast or a little girl was going to die. I castigated myself mentally. I needed a good kick in the ass. 

"Mulder?" 

"Yeah. Sorry. Ok. These are background files on the girls. I mean vaccination, dental, school records, that kind of thing." 

"Oh. Listen. Let's switch files. I'm reading some reports I put together here and they're too familiar. I think Marge Blake put those notes you have there together. Let me look at her notes and I think I'm more likely to spot something." 

"Sure," I breathed out, passing the file across the table towards her. 

xXx 

The press conference ended and we still hadn't found anything. I heard people talking outside the office about how it had gone. It sounded like the score had been Walter Skinner 1 press zip but I couldn't be sure. I couldn't afford to concentrate on the conversation. I needed to stay focused on the matter at hand. 

Walter came back by again and told us things had indeed gone well. Matthews and he were going to help man the phones. Calls from citizens would start to come in. They had given phone numbers out for the express purpose of phoning in tips. The house to house was continuing augmented now by Baton Rouge police. The state police were beginning to pitch in as well in patrolling around public bodies of water. The net was tightening. I only hoped it was going to catch the fish. 

Dinner appeared. Pizza. But neither Carmen or I touched it. At 8 PM Carmen looked up from the file containing a bunch of newspaper clippings she'd been reading. When she spoke all my senses went into overdrive. 

"Mulder?"

"What?" 

"Listen. I'm not sure but..." 

"Do you have something?" 

She looked up and I saw it in her eyes. Excitement. She had the scent. I got up and walked around the table. I sat down next to her. There was a fine sheen of sweat on her upper lip. 

"Show me," I said quietly. 

"All right. Look. These are newspaper clipping about Senator Rhodes campaign. I collected these early in the case from microfiche records. I was trying to get at the political angle at the time. You know - the idea that one of his enemies..." 

"OK, but that didn't track." 

"Right. Anyway I was just going over these again and I noticed something. This article mentions his little girl attending St. Joan Antida Catholic Grade School..." 

"St. Joan Antida?" I asked. My mind raced. Click. That wasn't right. I knew it instantly. 

"But that's not correct. Where's that other file..."

I plowed through the pile of paper until I came up with the girl's school records. I pulled the slim folder on Ashley Rhodes. 

"This says she attends public school. Wait. I leafed to the bottom. She enrolled in public school only two months prior to her abduction. Before that she attended St. Joan Antida." 

"I told you Marge was thorough," Carmen grinned. I began to flip through all the school records. 

"They all attended school together," Carmen whispered. 

"Bingo!" I smiled. Carmen shifted in her chair and I got up then and started to pace. 

"Right, right. OK. Now. Does the school have a graveyard, a cemetery near it?" 

"Mulder, let me think. I don't think it does. My aunt went to school at St. Joans. It's really old. Very exclusive. Shit. I need a city map." 

I walked quickly over to the door. The large map that Walter and SAC Matthews had been studying earlier was still outside on the long table in the big conference room. Carmen got up to follow me out. 

Walter was manning a phone at one of the desks nearby. He had just hung up and saw me emerge from the office. He took one look at my face and was on his feet and at the table even before we reached it. 

"Talk to me Mulder," he barked. He invaded my space as I stood over the city map of Baton Rouge. 

"Sir, Carmen discovered that all five girls actually attended school together. The fact was overlooked because...well someone just didn't look closely enough at the files or didn't put two and two together until now. It's not important. All five girls were students at St. Joan Antida Catholic School. Ashley Rhodes transferred to public school only 2 months before she was snatched." 

"And this is the connection you were looking for?" Walter asked. He stood very close and looked deep into my eyes. 

"I think so. I want to look for a cemetery or graveyard. A church, something like that near the school. Carmen doesn't think the school itself has anything like that attached to it. But she's familiar with the area. We're going to look on the map to double check and see if anything else jumps out at her." 

Johnson Matthews had noticed our tete at tete by this time and having finally gotten off the phone came over to the table.

"Is this good news?" he asked hopefully. 

"I think so, Johnson. Go on Mulder." 

"Sir, we need to look for a church or cemetery near the St. Joan Antida Catholic Grade School." 

"Is that near the bayou?" Matthews asked perceptively. 

"Not within walking distance. But if you take Catalpa Street it's within easy driving distance," Carmen answered from her position bending over the map.  

"Here, look." 

We all gathered around where she was pointing. 

"This is St. Joan Antida..." she began. 

"What?" Walter asked as her voice stopped. 

"Oh my God. Sirs, this is Divine Savior Holy Angel, three blocks away." 

"The church?" I asked bending to look closer. 

"Yes. It was damaged in a fire six months ago. It's a historic landmark. Mulder, they're renovating it. There's an old graveyard attached to the church."  

I looked up at Walter. He read me again like a book.

"Johnson, I want you to contact both Baton Rouge PD and whatever team we have in the area..." 

"That would be Danvers and Washington, Walter." 

"Ok, Good. Get on the horn and tell them all we may know where this jerkwad has his little hidey hole. Have them stake it out. Tell the PD to use plain clothes and unmarked cars, dicks, whatever, just no uniforms. Don't tell them to move in unless they're sure something's up and then to use extreme caution. We don't want this guy capping the kid because he smells us coming on."

 "Are we coming on, Walter?" Matthews asked with a grin. 

"Like flies on shit, Johnson. Get your car." 

xXx 

 

* * *

 

xXx 

I could hear Walter running ahead of me. He sounded like a fucking tank, a freight train. Well, he is big. He looks as wide as a brick wall and I now he's twice as hard. John Lee Atherton, the perp, knew he was coming on as Walter had said. Johnny had taken one look at Walter and headed for the hills. 

The stake out had flushed him at Divine Savior all right. Believe it or not, Mr. John Lee Atherton was the architect on the restoration project. The head architect. Our man of authority -yes sir. 

He'd been inside the ruined church, in the basement, for quite sometime when the two detectives from the Baton Rouge PD, Danvers and Washington and then Walter, SAC Matthews, Carmen, and yours truly had arrived to stake the sucker out. 

Lights came on in the church basement, it being 9 PM and full dark by this time. We could see the dim illumination. Matthews had thought ahead and gotten a bench warrant from a judge to search the premises. We had probable cause but Matthews wasn't taking any chances. Walter gave the go ahead to make our approach. 

Once inside the church Walter, Carmen and I had gone downstairs. The others had begun to search up above in case the perp was moving around. Walter was first down and then it was "FEDERAL AGENTS! DROP YOUR WEAPON!" when we surprised John Lee brandishing his great big knife. And then it was "HALT OR I'LL SHOOT." Like I said - Walter had gone in first and John Lee's eyes had gone as big as saucers. He took his knife and ran like hell out the back door. Walter was hot on his tail. The AD only stopped long enough to yell back, "Call 911". Ashley Rhodes was lying, naked, on a dirty mattress, bound hand and foot to the four corners of the bed with rope. She all ready had the Hebrew letter *D* carved in her forehead. 

Carmen stopped up short and drew out her cell phone. She was dialing 911 and kneeling down next to the girl. I stopped next to the bed as well. I crouched down and touched Ashley's neck. I felt a weak pulse. The little girl started to moan. 

"Christ, Carmen, she's alive." 

Carmen was giving directions to the 911 dispatcher and telling them to hurry. She slapped her phone shut. 

"Jesus. He carved them before he killed them," she whispered. By this time the two detectives, Danvers Washington and Matthews were crowding in. Carmen took off her tailored suit jacket and covered Ashley. She started to unbind her hands. 

"Mulder, go, go - you're a hell of a lot younger. Walter's going to need back up..." Matthews was huffing a bit. Well, he was realistic at least. But he was also right behind me. He instructed Danvers to go up and snag the EMTs. The other three and Carmen were supposed to guard Ashley.  

I caught most of this at a dead run as I sprinted after Walter. 

So, there I was, Smith and Wesson in hand, bearing down on the location where Walter had John Lee Atherton cornered. He'd made it all the way out of the church and across the graveyard. Now he was standing with his back up against the high stone wall that surrounded the old headstones. Well, we certainly knew where he got his murder weapons from flitted through my mind as I pulled up next to Walter. 

Walter was facing John Lee, gun trained on his chest. He was breathing hard and sweating bullets in the humid night air. He was also bleeding from a nasty knife cut on his left forearm. Too bad he hadn't stopped to put his suit coat back on before he left the Bu-car on the stake-out I thought. It might have deflected the knife a little. 

"Sir, you're cut," I nodded at his forearm. I kept my gun and my eyes pointed at John Lee. 

"No, shit, Mulder. It seems our friend here objected to my trying to pull him up short," he spat out. 

"I noticed he didn't get over the wall, however," I smiled slightly. 

"Fuckin' A," Walter grinned ferally. Oh yeah. I can imagine John Lee just might have fudged his Docker khakis when he felt Walter's mitts on his shoulders. No wonder he'd used the knife." 

I wondered errantly why Walter hadn't just shot him. I suppose he figured the guy was running away and it was worth a try to subdue for trial rather then just shoot the man in the back. 

"Sir, should I cuff him?" 

Walter never looked at me. He wiped the sweat from his eyes on his rolled up shirt sleeve however, and spoke to John Lee. 

"I would advise you to drop the knife. I'll give you one more chance to surrender. If you don't drop the knife, sir, I will have to shoot you." 

John Lee was tall and thin, blonde and very good looking. About 30 it looked like. His eyes were wide with panic and he was breathing even more hard and sweating more profusely then either of us. In short, he was scared shitless. He waved the knife back and forth but I could see him considering his options. His hard, intelligent eyes flicked from one of us to the other. They came to rest on me for a minute. 

"He's serious, sir. Shit, do I have to call you sir, I mean you've got a name, don't you?" I asked quietly. 

Walter glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. He set his mouth in a tight grimace. He was going to play the part to the *T*. Good cop, bad cop. Guess which one Walter likes to play? 

"Yeah, I'm serious, Mulder. My trigger finger is getting very itchy here," he growled.  

"Yes I do, Mulduhhhhh," John Lee replied in a thick southern accent. He was swallowing convulsively now at Walter's remark. So, a hometown boy I thought. Oh man, the press was going to have a field day with this one. 

"And it is?" I asked smiling, I dipped my gun just a bit lower. 

"His name's *Fucking Dead Boy*," Walter sneered. If he'd had a revolver, and not the Glock, he would have cocked the trigger. As it was he tightened both his hands on the grip and stared John Lee down. Blood ran down his arm. One of us was going to have to end this soon. Walter was bleeding badly. 

I heard someone approach very quietly behind us. I heard the heavy breathing. SAC Johnson Matthews I thought. Oh goodie. The gangs all here. 

John Lee's eyes bugged out. Clearly this guy was a jerk as well as a maniac. I mean I had thought he was a clever, stone cold killer. Maybe he was just a lucky fucker. But at any rate, his fucking luck had run out now. 

"My name is John Lee Atherton, Daddy Warbucks. You muscle bound hunk of shit." 

"Watch your mouth, John Lee, and drop the God damn knife," Walter hissed. 

"Mr. Atherton, Mr. Skinner is just about at the end of his rope. I would suggest you do as he says. I don't think you really want him to shoot you. Quite frankly with that wound you've given him and his anger, I think he might mis-aim and - well he tends to aim low anyway..." I gestured towards John Lee's crotch with my own gun and then I lowered it towards the ground. 

"You have to the count of three, John," Walter barked. John Lee jumped. 

"One." 

"Skinner? Like muleskinner? Do you skin 'em, Daddy? I mean you like to skin 'em better then shoot 'em I bet. My Daddy he...he liked to cut 'em. Oh yeah. You...you piece of cop shit. Skinner. Sounds like sinner. Are you a sinner baldy? A sinner like those whores, those little whores?"  

"Two." 

"I made them pay. They broke the rule. So, Daddy made 'em pay. God told Moses. Moses told me. The no trespassing rule. Desecrated holy ground. All those little rocks. Look at my windows. My stain glass windows...with their little rocks... I mean, there were signs. Signs on Mount Sinai...signs...keep out. No rocks. So much broken glass..." 

Oh Fuck. This guy was gone. Total Loony tunes. If I didn't do something Walter was going to have to drill him. 

"John Lee!" I shouted. 

"What!" 

"This is your Daddy talkin' boy. Cut the she-it and drop that knife. Moses didn't have no knife on Mount Sinai. He had the tablets, The Ten Commandments. And what does the 5th Commandment say, John Lee?" 

"Daddy?" 

"I said what does the 5th Commandant say, son?" 

"Thou shalt not kill, Daddy." 

"Damn straight. Now drop the knife!" 

We all held our breath. John Lee Atherton threw the knife on the ground and SAC Johnson Matthews was all over him like a second skin.

Atherton was cuffed and lead away. Walter stood staring after him as Matthews hauled him off. We had heard sirens approaching during the entire final moments of John Lee's freedom. The paramedics and extra squads were arriving. Crowd control would be needed. The press were hot on their heels. 

Shit. 

I looked back towards the church. I could see the numerous stain glass windows, many of them boarded up. John Lee had killed those poor girls because they'd pulled a simple childhood prank. They'd trespassed on church property and thrown some rocks through *his* stain glass windows. Hell. I shook my head in disgust and turned back towards where Walter was standing. Except he wasn't standing. He was sitting heavily on a headstone, his Glock back in its holster. 

"Sir, are you all right?" I asked walking quickly to his side. 

"Yeah. Just winded. I'll be fine." 

Fine? He was cradling his arm hard against his chest to staunch the fucking blood for God's sake. 

"Still, I should get an EMT to look at that arm for you." 

I touched his shoulder. His arm was hot. Like hard steel straight from the forge. He tilted his head up and trapped my eyes. Both of us were breathing in unison then. One breath, two breaths, a third. He lifted his right hand and placed it over mine. His hand caressed mine, gently, once and then he dropped his hand down again to support his left forearm. He gripped his arm tight, flushed, and swallowing hard, he looked away.  

"Mulder, I...I think you'd better get that EMT," he whispered shutting his eyes.  

"Will you be all right if I leave..." 

"Yes. Just go," he hissed. I stepped back. I was having trouble catching my breath from the emotion as well as the sticky, hot, humid Baton Rouge night air. 

"I'll be right back," I replied. I was biting my lower lip to keep myself from...from what? I felt like...God...I didn't know what I felt like. Walter was looking down at the ground, studying his shoes. 

I turned around and headed off, starting to run between the headstones towards the side door of the church. As I hurried away I heard Walter's tired voice sigh, "Thank you Mulder. Thank you for everything." 

xXx 

Somehow the authorities got past the press with John Lee Atherton. Johnson Matthews and the Baton Rouge PD transported him downtown to Baton Rouge PD headquarters.

Carmen went with Matthews. The interrogation would begin. John Lee came from a good family as it turned out. The lawyers would be sniffing round as well. But John Lee had been read his rights and had waived them, including his right to counsel. He had declared his desire to make a confession. The man had a righteous message to give. God was on his side. Right. Prick. He was being handled with kid gloves so he wouldn't change his mind. 

I sat with Walter while he was treated on the scene by the paramedics. I then rode with him in the ambulance as it transported him to the closest emergency room. There he was sewn up with 20 stitches, bandaged, given a tetanus shot, antibiotics and painkillers in case the arm hurt like a son of a bitch after the lidocaine wore off. But Walter was feeling no pain really. We'd gotten our man. Gotten him before he could kill again. I wish we could have gotten him before he left his mark.  

Ashley Rhodes was taken to the same hospital in critical condition. The poor kid had all ready been raped, sodomized, partially strangled into unconsciousness and then cut on the forehead before we'd gotten to her. But she was alive. And where there's life there *is* hope. Clearly however, she would need a lot of counseling. But Senator Rhodes and his wife were ecstatic to get their little girl back. They let Walter know it in no uncertain terms. Even I was given their congratulations at the hospital. Senator Matthews saw to it that the press left us alone as well. His team of spin doctors gave the press more fodder then they could ever want. Amazingly, his publicity people were joined by the former (but not to the public), SAC Scott Adams who helped fend off reporters questions having been quickly briefed by Johnson Matthews. Carmen Guitteraz was riding shotgun at his side to make sure he toed the line and got the official word out in a correct fashion.  

After Walter had been treated I drove him down to police headquarters to see John Lee Atherton give his confession. It turned out to be a mistake. 

John Lee was being kept in interrogation room number one downtown, sequestered with a tape recorder, Johnson Matthews, the Baton Rouge detectives who had been in on the arrest, Walter and me. There was a one way mirror in one wall of the room. Behind it was whoever could squeeze in to get a look at the baby killer. 

As soon as Walter and I walked in the room the previously loquacious John Lee Atherton turned into *Tommy*, the deaf, dumb and blind boy from The Who's rock opera. He just sat there at the head of the long table in the room, staring forward seemingly at nothing, his lips zipped and his hands folded before him. The tape wound on recording silence. Finally Johnson Mattews spoke up. 

"Come on John Lee. You said you had a confession to make. Don't go back on your word now," Johnson was saying. Walter stood in back of Matthews, facing John Lee. He was leaning against the wall, bandaged left arm folded over his right. He still had his suit coat off and his hard, corded forearms flexed slightly when he shifted his weight. I was sitting next to Johnson Matthews, to John Lee's right. The two Baton Rouge Detectives flanked either side of the rooms door. 

"Shut up n..n..nnn..." he stuttered. 

"I wouldn't go there, John Lee," Walter rumbled from behind Johnson's back. John Lee glared at Walter and then he glanced around at all of us. He ended up looking back at Walter and his eyes narrowed to mean little slits. 

"I won't *go* anywhere as long as that bald headed bastard is standing there." 

"John Lee..." Matthews started to warn him. 

"Are you afraid of me, John Lee?" Walter whispered from his position of casual strength. He exuded authority. Power. Disapproval. John Lee was clearly cowed by him. And envious as well. He saw himself as a prophet. A Moses surrogate from the Old Testament. He was an ersatz Moses that didn't appreciate not having God in the form of AD Walter S. Skinner on his side. He hated Walter with every sinew of his body. And he was going to get a piece of Walter now. In spades. 

"I'm not afraid of any man. Least of all a no account *sinner* like you, cocksucker." 

"Then if you aren't afraid of me, prove it. Confess John. If you're not a coward you'll give your statement," Walter replied in a reasonable voice. 

I looked up at him. Outwardly he was calm. Inwardly? I thought his guts were twisting. He hated John Lee Atherton as much as the other man hated him. The disrespect was getting to him but he was squashing it down. He kept himself still and breathing evenly with a great effort of will. There was no way he'd let John Lee see he was getting to him if he could help it. But even Walter Skinner had his limits. I was hoping John Lee didn't push him past them. 

"I'm not a coward, you sinner, and I'm not stupid either," John Lee hissed, "If you think I'm going to make a statement with you here, you're crazy." 

"I'm not the one who's crazy here, John Lee," Walter replied. And then he smiled at John Lee, a really nice sarcastic smile. 

Johnson Matthews grimaced, "Walter..." he warned. 

"Waltuh? Well, well. My Daddy's name was Waltuh. He was a cocksucker too you know," he turned his attention to Johnson. 

"And if you think I'm going to tell this cocksucker that I cut up those little whores, put it up their snatch and up their ass, and then bashed them good then you're crazy too, boy!" he replied, his voice rising an octave with every word until it was an angry whining shriek that reverberated around the room. 

Walter shoved off the wall and moved forward slightly. Johnson Matthews sensed the movement and motioned for him to move back. Walter stopped, his eyes like two black holes filled with flashes of lightning. 

"What about floating them in the bayou?" I asked quickly. I tried to be the voice of reason, pitching my voice low and conciliatory. 

"What bayou, fuckrag?" he spat at me. O-K. So much for *Mr. Nice Guy*. I thought. I lost my temper at that point. It was a very bad mistake. But boy did it feel good. 

"John Lee, cut the shit. You killed those little girls and you would have killed Ashley Rhodes too if we hadn't stopped you. Why don't you do yourself and all of us a big favor and give your statement. We're tired of your chickenshit. You're wasting our valuable time." 

Walter barked his deep bass laugh. That was it for John Lee Atherton. The shit was about to hit the fan. 

"Don't laugh at me, cocksucker," John Lee hissed. 

"Walter, I think you'd better leave," Johnson Matthews advised Walter in a low voice. He did not however, look at Walter. He kept his face pointed at John Lee Atherton. John Lee was staring daggers at Walter Skinner. 

"Yeah, I think you're right, Johnson. I'd better leave. I'm getting sick to my stomach anyway," Walter rumbled sarcastically. He moved on past, Johnson's chair. He ignored John Lee Atherton with studied nonchalance. But as he drew near John Lee's chair at the head of the table, the skinny architect reared back and hawked a huge loogie of spit right onto Walter's left shoe. 

"Lick that up, sinner," he hissed up at Walter's rock hard eyes. 

Everyone in the room stopped breathing. I tried to pin Walter's eyes but he wouldn't look at me. He looked down at his left shoe and the gob of maniac spit that glistened on its toe. His jaw muscles worked spasmodically for a moment. He glanced up at John Lee. Atherton stared at him in defiance. Walter's face went blank, mask-like and he turned and walked past John Lee. The killer's entire body started to vibrate in anger. 

Walter had almost reached the door to the room, his back and neck incredibly straight and tense before John Lee spoke again. When he spoke his voice was calm and conversational. It really made his words carry and they cut like his great big Bowie knife. 

"Hey, sinner. I know those little whores liked *my* dick. But I bet they'd like that great big hard cock your sportin' right now, boy. Then again, maybe they'd never get it because your savin' that piece of meat for your boyfriend here, Mr. Mulduhhh." 

Oh Fuck. 

Now, I've seen Walter Skinner move fast but I had never seen him move as fast as he did in the next few seconds in interrogation room number one. Before anyone could move he had turned around, crossed from the door to John Lee's chair in 3 wide strides and had the architect in a choke hold, shaking him like a rag doll. All the while he was throttling him an incoherent roar of anger came from somewhere deep in his chest.  

"Walter, NO!" Matthews was yelling and then all of us were struggling on top of the two men trying to pry Walter's fingers from around Atherton's throat. 

He was choking John Lee. He was going to choke him to death. 

"Stop it. Sir! Sir! Stop!" I was yelling into the side of his head because he was throwing me around like a bucking bronco. Johnson and I were yanking on both his arms at the same time. The two detectives were trying to pull John Lee away from his grasp. 

Finally in desperation I grabbed him in a half nelson and shoved my mouth right next to his ear, "Walter, please I don't want to put you under arrest. Scully will kill me if I have to cuff you," I hissed directly into his ear. He let go of a gasping and blue John Lee Atherton, and I pulled him off the little turd, and away towards the door. Matthews made to follow me. 

"No, just...take care of things here. I'll handle it," I advised, out of breath. I was manhandling my boss out the door as fast as I could before he decided to put up a renewed fight. He was still resisting my pushing him but it didn't matter. I was really angry and the adrenaline was giving me extra strength now to get him out into the hallway. 

When I yanked the door open and wrestled him out into the hall we bumped into Carmen Guitteraz who was obviously coming back from baby-sitting Scott Adams to see what was going on with our detainee.

"What the hell, Mulder!" she exclaimed seeing me with my arms full of AD. 

"Carmen, get out of the way," I grunted. I steered Walter across the hall, wrestled the door to the men's room open and tossed him inside. Before I followed him in I called back to Carmen over my shoulder, "Stand by this door and don't let anyone in here." If there was all ready someone inside they were going to get the bums rush out in a big hurry. Luckily, no one was using the facilities. I slammed the door shut and stood, staring at Walter and breathing hard. 

xXx 

Walter walked over to one of the stall doors and kicked it hard and when it swung back on the rebound he punched it. The fucking hinges bent and the door fell sideways hanging at a crazy, haphazard angle. 

"Feel better?" I asked, finally catching my breath. 

"Marginally," he replied letting his breath out in a rush. He flexed his right hand experimentally. Satisfied no bones were broken, he turned his back on me and walked over to one of the urinals. 

I heard him unzip his fly. Oh great. So now I was going to get a look at what John Lee had told me Walter was saving up for me? But of course I'd have to walk over and stand next to him to see if he really was hard. I wasn't about to do it. I had a wild idea suddenly that he was going to jerk himself off in front of me. Jesus, I hoped - Not? That wasn't a possibility was it? I ran my hand over my mouth. Christ. If he did beat his meat I knew I'd be down on my knees to lend a hand. No question. 

But instead I heard the sound of piss hitting porcelain. OK. So John Lee had been full of shit. Well, full of shit or not, he'd hit a sore spot there with Walter Skinner hadn't he? Christ all mighty. More like an aching spot. Walter's sore little secret... or really not so little at all...A huge, hard, aching....We were going to have to talk and talk soon. After that caress in the cemetery and his reaction in the interrogation room to John Lee's goading accusation we definitely had some issues to address here. I was beginning to entertain thoughts that I hardly imagined could be possible. That...that Walter was attracted to me. And now I had to know for sure...soon.  

But his casual attitude about taking a leak in front of me got me ticked off. I mean if he did have the hots for me and was too afraid to admit it then why parade the merchandise around. I don't like a tease. It's arrogant. But then again maybe I was reading this all wrong. I had to tread carefully here. I decided on angry sarcasm as a good defense. He understood it. Expected it from old Spooky Mulder. 

"Well, don't stand on ceremony, sir...feel free to piss all over me while your at it. I mean you've all ready..." 

"Mulder, shut the hell up. I know what I did in there. Let it go," he replied sighing as he finished emptying his bladder. 

"Sir, you almost killed..." 

"Mulder - does the name Duane fucking Barry ring a bell?" he spat out at me as he shook off, readjusted his dick, zipped up and turned around. His face was like chiseled granite. Like the God damn headstone he'd been sitting on in the cemetery. He crossed to the sink to rinse his hands.  

"Fine," I grated. I wasn't going to stand there and listen to him throw something like Duane Barry up at me. Fuck him. I was out of there, "Go to hell, sir. Just don't take me, or anyone else with you, all right." I turned to leave. 

"Mulder..." the tone in his voice brought me up short. I heard apology coming. I decided to give him another chance. 

"I'm sorry. That was uncalled for. Everything I did in there was uncalled for as well. I...fuck. I don't know what came over me." He wiped his hand on a paper towel and tossed it in the trash. Finally he left the sink and stood watching me. He ran a hand over the back of his neck and then brought it down to touch his bandaged arm. 

"The arm's bothering you isn't it?" I asked quietly. I walked over to where he was standing, "Better let me check the bandage. It might have gotten jostled during...well you might have popped a stitch." 

"Hell, that's all I need," he nodded, extending his arm towards me, "and yeah, the lidocaine is starting to wear off." 

I took his forearm gently in my hands and peered at it closely. I turned it over. There wasn't any blood on the bandages. He'd gotten off lucky. 

"Too bad Scully isn't here. She'd be able to really give this a good going over," I looked up into his eyes. Oh Jesus. I saw it then. The mixture of desire and fear. The wanting, and the need. Oh Lord. AD Walter S. Skinner was as queer as J. Edgar Hoover and just as in the closet. In the closet but not for long at this rate I thought. Hell no. He was more than interested in me. And he was scared shitless. 

Remember I did tell you earlier that Walter doesn't realize anyone could be attracted to him a lot of the time? He can be as thick as a brick that way. Well...he was clearly salivating over yours truly and had no clue whatsoever that I wanted to jump his bones right there in the men's room. He was afraid to even open his mouth because he thought I was completely straight, and he was going to get it in the heart and the career for making a pass at one of his male subordinates. Oh brother. Maybe I shouldn't have mentioned Scully, jumped unbidden into my mind.  

I saw him swallow hard. OK, this maybe wasn't the time or place. We'd be going back to the hotel eventually tonight. I'd give talking to him a shot then. Actually I was considering sending him back to the hotel ahead of me with his bottle of painkillers and instructions to go to bed. I figured I could get a squad or maybe Danvers or Washington to drive him back there. They were still hanging around behind the one way mirror. It would be the best idea. He was pretty much dead on his feet. It was going on 11 PM at this point and he'd been up nearly 48 hours straight if you counted the time before we left DC. What was I talking about - so had I. But I hadn't been knifed by a crazed serial killer who had then goaded me into having to deal with my sexual preference. No, Walter Skinner needed to give himself a little TLC. Or maybe someone needed to give him some. Well, we'd see about that idea after our little talk. 

"Sir, listen. I think it would be a good idea if I rousted up a ride for you back to the Hyatt. You need to get some sleep. You can go back there, take a painkiller, and give this arm a rest." 

He looked at me very carefully. I was still holding his arm. I released it and he took over cradling it in his right arm. 

"Maybe that's not a bad idea Mulder. I...the pain..." 

"Yeah. Uh, why don't you let me get Danvers or Washington to drive you there. I need to finish up a few things here and then I'll be along as well...we....we can talk about...we can talk then if you'd like." I replied, "That is if you're not zonked out on Darvon when I get there." OK, I thought, there's the offer. He can mull it over and we'll see what happens. 

He chuckled just slightly over the remark and then his face softened a bit as well. Good. Maybe this was going to turn out to be all right. 

"So, ready to face the world?" I asked, gesturing towards the men's room door. 

"Not really, but I'm sure as hell ready to get out of this stinking men's room. The *big mints* in the urinals are making me gag. Lead on Agent Mulder."

"Did you fall for that one when you were a kid too?" 

"Yeah. Not one of my fondest childhood memories," Walter laughed grimly as we headed back out the door. 

xXx 

Walter had gone back to the hotel, with Danvers driving. Twenty minutes later, John Lee Atherton, bruised larynx and all had given his confession. So we had our killer dead to rights. With any luck he'd be on his way to death row in record time. 

He was hustled off to a cell in the bowels of the Baton Rouge house of correction and everyone began to clear out for bed or bar or whatever they needed to get four little dead girls and their sadistic killer out of their mind. 

I don't usually drink. But boy I thought I could use a drink tonight. I was sitting in interrogation room number one making a few last minute notes in my little blue spiral bound notebook when said supplier of same stuck her head in the door. 

"So, Mulder, how's it hanging?" Carmen Guitteraz asked. 

I looked up and smiled. I knew I looked tired - bone weary. But nevertheless I was glad to see her, "Hey, Carmen Miranda, come on in."

"Oh, oh, is that my new nick, Spooky." 

"Only if you like it. If you don't I can come up with something better - after I've had a good nights sleep." 

"I hear you," she laughed coming into the room and shutting the door. I noticed the movement and looked from the closed door up into her face. 

"Does this mean we're going to have that little talk now?" I asked her. God, I needed to talk to someone. Carmen seemed like a good, honest, compassionate woman. I knew she suspected what was going on in my head regarding Walter. I just needed someone as a sounding board. Scully wasn't here. I was hoping once again that Carmen would be as perceptive and understanding as my Scully. She had all ready proved to be almost as talented an investigator. I raised an eyebrow at her as she came closer. 

"Actually, I don't think this is the best place to talk. Look, Mulder. If you're not too dead on your feet I...I'd like to buy you a drink. I know this place. Somewhere we can talk. Would you be up for it?" 

"I'd be more than up for it. Sure. Let's go." 

We drove to a district of the city that told me we weren't going to a yuppie, puppy, micro-brewery trendy bar. Nope. This was the warehouse district. Home of illegal raves in their day and home to...gay bars. 

OK. So, what was up here, I thought as we pulled up near a large converted warehouse. The Neon sign outside said, "Rick's Place" There was a neon portrait of Humphrey Bogart

as he appeared in Casablanca right next to the Neon lettering. Carmen cut the engine in the Bu-Car and then she turned to me, her features bathed in the electric neon glow of old Bogie. 

"Carmen, this doesn't look like *Hooters* here." 

"Mulder, I told you my minor was in parapsychology didn't I?" 

"Yeah. Are you trying to tell me this is a bar for psychics?" 

"No..." 

"That you're a psychic?" 

"No, but maybe I'm trying to tell you it takes one to know one." 

Oh boy. I thought...oh...Gertrude *Gut Busting* Stein... 

"Look, Mulder. I'm going to be honest with you, ok?" Carmen began. 

"All right, shoot. Uh, I didn't mean that..." I smiled into her face. Of course I knew what she was going to say. Or at least I thought I did. A little spoon full of sugar would make the medicine go down a hell of a lot easier. 

"Well, you'd better promise not to do the same, Fox, or I'm out of here." 

"No, it's ok, go ahead. I'm listening." 

"Fine. OK. Ted, my partner was gay. So am I for that matter. We...we used to come here as a couple. It's against bureau regs for partners to fraternize but hell - I'd rather them think I was fucking Ted then..." 

"Think you were boffing Barbara?" 

"No shit." 

I chuckled, "So where are you going with this, Carmen?" I wasn't going to make it easy for her. I thought if she's on the level and this isn't some kind of weird fag hag thrill for her or worse yet a blackmail attempt my playing hard to get would bring her real intentions out in the open.  

"Oh, come on, Mulder. I saw how you were looking at AD Skinner. Aren't you and he...I mean...just...what the hell was going on there...If you're not gay..." 

"Carmen, you think I'm sleeping with my boss?" 

"Mulder I don't know what I think. I figured you...shit I don't know...you were looking at him like you wanted to get in his pants or all ready were and then you kept talking about your partner like you were fucking married to her...Oh look, I'm sorry maybe this isn't any of my business. Mother Mary I probably shouldn't be telling you anything about me either," she finished miserably slapping her hand on the steering wheel. 

"Carmen, it...it's ok, really. Listen. I know how it is when two people work together on a horrendous case like this one. They get close really fast. I...oh hell. I appreciate your honesty. I'm not gay...I guess I'd have to say I'm bisexual. I'm involved with my partner, Dana Scully, but I've had men before. I'm not sleeping with Walter Skinner though..." I let my voice trial off. 

"You're not?" 

"No. I don't know what the hell is going on with Skinner." 

"But you'd like to find out?" she smiled at me. 

I sighed, "Yeah, I guess I would." 

"Sweet Jesus, Mulder. You've got the balls of a brass monkey." 

I laughed like hell then. The whole days stress came crashing down on me and then bubbled up and out with each whooping breath of laughter I took. 

Carmen joined in the laughter. When we finally calmed down she spoke again more seriously. 

"He's in the closet isn't he?" 

"Well, aren't we all?" 

"But not to ourselves. I mean he doesn't even admit it to himself does he?" 

"Carmen, I don't know." 

"Well do you want me to take you back to the hotel so you can find out?" 

I looked at her for a minute. No. I didn't want to go back right away. I felt like I wanted that drink after all. I needed to get loose. I wanted to have some fun. 

"Carmen, is this place really ok? I mean, I usually don't go to gay bars, especially in cities where my face and name have been plastered all over the news." 

"Mulder, this isn't called Rick's Place for no reason. The owner's, as well as the clientele, are very discreet. You might be surprised at who you see in there." 

"OK. I guess I could use that drink then, if you're buying and you don't mind the fact that I haven't shaved, and I'm wearing the same suit I've had on all day." 

"I'll make do, Mulder. And yeah, I'm buying, come on." 

We exited the car, locked it up tight and headed across the street and through the sliding warehouse doors into the sound and fury of Rick's Place. 

xXx 

The place was huge. A cavern. Loud house dance music. A dance floor packed with bodies. A mammoth bar to one side. An upstairs. Maybe more than one bar. It was like another planet. The planet Homoreotica. An H.R. Giger painting. *The Twilight Zone* and I felt like the usher. It certainly wasn't *Casablanca*. Oh no sir. 

Carmen stopped me and yelled into my ear, "I know the owner. We can go to the back bar. It's behind sound proof, one way glass. You can see the dance floor, but no one can see you. We can talk back there." 

"OK." I yelled back at her. She smiled into my eyes and reaching down took my hand. It was lucky she did. We would have been separated in the crush. 

Before too long we had made it to the glass doors that divided the back bar from the dance floor. I was glad when we'd gotten out of the noise. My ears were ringing. 

We took a seat at a comfortable table on plush chairs. A waiter appeared almost immediately. I ordered tequila and so did Carmen. After the waiter brought our drinks as well as the bottle of *Jose Cuervo* each of us picked up our shot glass, and clinked them together. 

"To J. Edgar Hoover, long may he wave," Carmen laughed. 

"Bless his cross-dressing little heart." 

"Amen brother."  

We both tossed back the shots and then slapped the glasses down on the table. I choked. It had been a while. 

"So, Mulder. When did you first know you were a member of the church?" Carmen asked as I blinked through watery eyes. 

I looked at her in confusion, "The church?" For a minute I thought she meant Divine Savior. 

"Oh. Sorry, not that church," she replied. Maybe she was psychic I thought. She certainly had read my mind there.

"No I mean our church. When did you find out you liked boys?" 

"About the same time I discovered I liked girls." 

"You're not kidding about being bisexual are you?" 

"No. I'm very much in love with Dana Scully, Carmen. I just...well, we're open about our relationship. She knows I like men. She wouldn't begrudge me having a male lover." 

"Especially if it was Walter Skinner," she teased. 

"I'm not so sure. She's sort of intimidated by him. He is the boss you know." 

"No shit, Mulder. That guy has *Spank Me Daddy* written all over his bald head." 

"You think he's a dom?" 

"What do you think?" 

"I don't know Carmen. He...he seems so frightened. So unsure of his feelings. Like you said - he hasn't even admitted his sexual preference to himself. I doubt he knows what he wants much less whether he wants it top or bottom." 

"Shit, Mulder, What are you going to do, teach him the ropes? Fox Mulder, cherry buster..." 

"Don't you think I'm sensitive enough to handle a virgin?" I asked, laughing. Carmen poured us both a second shot. We both knocked them back again and set the glasses down. 

She studied my face and then she giggled a little. The tequila clearly beginning to get to her. She blushed and then looked away from me and through the sound proof one way glass that divided the dance floor from the back bar. 

"Sensitive? Mulder if I was inclined to swing the other way, I'd let you bust my cherry. You've more than got what it takes. Scully's a lucky woman. Walter's going to be a lucky man if he's smart enough to know it. But hell, if I were you I'd think first before you grab that tiger by the tail...I...OH MY GOD!" 

"What?" I asked in complete bewilderment. I followed her startled eyes through the one way glass and mine joined hers in wide open incredulous amazement.  

It's surprising what a pair of contacts, jeans, hiking boots, a black muscle shirt, and sports jacket can do for a man. Especially when that man was wearing a Versace suit, designer tie, glasses and maniac spat upon Allen Edmonds shoes the last time I saw him only an hour or so earlier. Can you say Clark Kent? See, I knew you could. 

"Sweet, Jesus, what the mother puss bucket is he doing here?" Carmen cursed roundly.  

"He must have lost his fucking mind!" I exclaimed. Holy Smoking coincidences too! How the hell could he even think about coming down here? Even with the contacts and clothes change. His stony mug had been plastered all over the tube a hell of a lot more than mine. Jesus wept. 

Walter S. Skinner was standing, or leaning actually, against one of the large support pillars that ringed the dance floor. He had a glass of beer in hand and was staring out into the noisy, gyrating crowd. Just staring. 

"You said this place was discreet..." 

"Yeah but..." 

"So, isn't Rick's Place well known? I mean, maybe he does go out once in a while. If he does he probably knows the network. The safe bars in every city. Most older closeted gays do. Christ though - he's taking a terrible risk. I don't believe this." It was blowing my mind. Walter was taking a really dangerous chance that someone would recognize him. If someone did and chose to make trouble for him it really was all over. 

"Well, yeah, but hell Mulder he was exhausted...you can still see the God damned bandage under his coat. He should be back at the hotel sleeping. But he's a big boy. We can't second guess his motives. You...you can't be his baby-sitter," Carmen replied touching my arm, "Mulder..." 

"Yeah, yeah, OK. Maybe this is his way of dealing with things." I ventured quietly. I watched fascinated as Walter studied the crowd. He looked uncomfortable. Like maybe he didn't do this that often. Didn't frequent this kind of place very much at all. 

But God, did he ever look good. I thought he looked incredibly handsome but so tense and forbidding that if he was looking for action he was going to be sadly in for a disappointment. The expression on his face said, *Hi my name is Walter and I'd just as soon kill you as kiss you big boy*. Nope. Old Walt was going to be avoided like the plague tonight. No boy in his right mind was going to try taking that on. Except for maybe Fox Mulder. I toyed with the idea. 

"Are you going to go out there?" Carmen asked suddenly. 

"Do you think I should?" 

"You want the truth?" 

I turned and focused on her. The truth. That was rich. Fuckin' A I wanted the truth. Then, now and always. 

"Yes, give it to me straight. Ouch - bad pun, sorry." 

Carmen almost choked on her laughter. When she was finally able to catch her breath she got serious again, "Truth - no I don't think you should. I think he's here on a whim. I just have a gut feeling. Maybe he does this in DC - I mean why the contacts if he doesn't want to look different? But, I think he's really confused Mulder. If you go out there now it's going to, pardon the expression, queer the whole deal. I'd go back to the hotel and wait for him. Then I'd try to...well I'd try to be a friend, Mulder. He needs help." 

I looked in Carmen's eyes. I was really glad I'd trusted her, came here with her tonight. She was a hell of a woman. She was going to make some other woman very lucky some day. She was right of course. If I went out there and confronted Walter what the hell would I say? *Hi there sailor boy, come here often. Fuck. Sorry, sir, forgot you were a Marine*. Oh Sure. He was armed. He's probably pull out his fucking Glock and shoot me in the nuts. No, I should go back to the hotel and wait for him. We could have our own moment of truth there. Yeah, the truth was out there and Walter was going to have to face it sooner or later. I just hoped he would trust me as a friend and let me help him out of the closet. God. I would be hanging my shingle out one of these days. Maybe Karen Kosseff, the Bureau shrink, would lend me office space.  

I watched as Walter continued to watch the crowd. A guy did make his way over to where Walter was leaning against the pillar. A tall, thin, but well muscled, brown haired guy in Tommy Hilfiger jeans and a tight white t-shirt sidled up to him and leaned in close. Oh oh. That fucker was trouble I thought. He looked enough like Alex to make all my warning bells go off. Don't go there Walter I thought. Danger, Danger Will Robinson. 

Walter inclined his head to listen to what the guy was saying. The Alex clone gestured to Walter's half empty glass. He laid a hand on Walter's forearm. The unbandaged one luckily. 

Walter looked the guy up and down, appraising, weighing, judging. The guy removed his arm and took a little step back. Walter shook his head in the negative and took a sip of his beer. The guy shrugged, and smiling walked off. I released my breath carefully. OK. I could see he really wasn't looking for company maybe? At least not that kind of company. Maybe he *was* just testing the waters. At any rate, I hoped he left soon. I was going to go. Carmen could take me back to the hotel now. 

As I came to that decision Walter Skinner's gaze drifted over to the one way mirror at the back of the dance floor. His eyes caught mine through the glass. I knew he couldn't see me but his eyes trapped me like that hawk trapping the rabbit again. Or maybe an eagle - yeah - a fucking bald eagle. American icon. God damn. I trembled under that gaze. Lord help me I wanted to see him look at me like that and then mean it - to have him look and see his eyes glaze over with passion. I really wanted him. My hands were shaking. 

"Carmen?" 

"Yeah, Mulder?"  

"I think I would like to go back to the hotel now." 

"Hey, no problem. This bus is ready to leave too." Carmen agreed pulling money out of her pocket as she rose out of her chair. 

xXx 

The hotel room was a little stuffy so I cranked up the AC. Carmen had come up for a couple of minutes after we got back to the Hyatt. I'd gotten her a Diet Coke from the little fridge in the room. She was drinking it and looking out the window at the city. We were on the 22nd floor. It was a king sized Hyatt all right. 

"Mulder I really want to thank you for all your help on this case. I know tomorrow is going to be difficult. The two of you can't avoid the press forever. But I think they're going to treat you all like heroes. Hell you deserve it. But at least it will be over soon. You did say you were going to fly out the day after tomorrow." 

"Thanks Carmen. I guess we will get lucky with the press. And yeah, it is almost over," I told her quietly. Tomorrow I thought. Shit I was more worried about tonight when Walter got back a hell of a lot more then the press jackals tomorrow. 

"Well, I'd better get going. I'll see you tomorrow. You left your lap top down at Bureau headquarters you know." 

"Yeah, but I locked it up in that filing cabinet." 

"Right, I'll make sure it's ok in the morning. Just in case you...sleep in...and don't get down there early," she gave me a little grin. 

"Oh Brother. Yeah, well I'm not sure getting lucky tonight is going to be that lucky. Shit. Hey, listen Carmen, thanks for everything. I'm sorry about your partner. I hope...I mean..." 

"Hey, Mulder. Don't sweat it. I'm doing ok. And as for the *partner* idea? I'm working on both ends of it," she smiled wide, and then she tossed back the rest of her Coke, "See you tomorrow, Agent Spooky. It's been tits."  

I laughed as she tossed the Coke can into the trash basket near the door. 

"Later, Carmen. Tomorrow." 

She waved at me over her shoulder, opened the door to the room and was gone. 

Shortly after Carmen left I found the note from Walter tacked up in my can over the toilet. How appropriate. At least this can didn't have the big mint.  

>>>>>Mulder:

I couldn't sleep. I needed to get out, get some air and think. I didn't take the pain pills. I need my head clear. The pain will help me to stay clear. Help me to think too. I'm sorry for everything that happened tonight. Please accept my sincere apologies. Don't wait up. Get some sleep. You earned it, agent. 

WSS<<<<< 

Fuck. Well at least he left me the note. Well, he had his cell phone, his ID, badge and Glock. Who would fuck with him anyway. Would you? Seriously? And of course as Carmen said he was a big boy. He didn't need a baby-sitter, a Mommy or a Daddy either for that matter. But he did need a friend. 

I was going to try to wait up for Walter no matter what he suggested in the note. I decided to clean up a little. I used the can and then went back and stood in front of the mirror fronted closet to strip and hang up my clothes. I went back in the bathroom and brushed my teeth. I looked at my reflection in the mirror. Man, I looked like shit. Sweaty, having more of a bad hair day then usual, grimy, bloody. Oh Mama! It was lucky it had been dark in that bar. Carmen would have been embarrassed if people had gotten a really good look at her *date*. 

I decided to take a shower before I crawled in between the clean Hyatt Regency bed sheets. I walked over to the shower and turned the water on. I adjusted it so it gushed out nice and hot and climbed inside the stall with my little bottle of shower gel, and stepped under the spray. I laughed. Scully. She loved these shower gels. This one was supposed to smell like musk or something. Male musk. Yikes. Well it did smell good as I lathered up. Scully liked this aroma on me. I thought - hmmmm. Hoped Walter liked musk. Oh hell. No use getting my hopes up. Or my cock either for that matter. He'd probably take a cab back, drunk as a skunk, and collapse next door in bed, snoring. 

Well, I'd wait anyway just in case. I rubbed some of the gel into my scalp since I hadn't bothered to get the shampoo out of my shaving kit. I could hear Scully on that one too, "Mulder, shower gel is not good for your hair. You'll dry it out." She's a hoot, I'll tell you. 

I got done with the shower, turned off the faucets and climbed out. A nice, big, fluffy Hyatt towel went around my hips and I used another to towel my hair. There were two more on the bar in the can. One of those was going in the garment bag - oh yeah! Hey, no snide comments ok? I collect them. 

I went back into the other room. The damp towels went over a chair back. I fished a clean pair of boxers out of my garment bag and pulled them on. I decided to watch some TV. I snagged the remote off the top of the really excellent 32 inch TV the Hyatt had so considerately supplied to this *vidiot* and dove onto the bed. The TV came on quickly after I flipped the power. Ah, an on-line guide. Great! The SciFi Channel? MST3K, the movie? Oh Yeah, baby. I was all set. I settled back, plumping up the bed pillows. I decided to turn off the lights in the room as well. I got up and made the rounds. It took a couple of seconds and I returned to the bed and the approximation of a dark movie theater a la Fox Mulder. Now all I needed was my little bed buddy - Wally. I settled back to wait...I don't remember shutting my eyes at all. 

xXx 

 

* * *

 

xXx 

Sam. Oh God Samantha. I knew I was having *The Dream* again. The one I had when I least wanted it. Always. I really shouldn't have been surprised though. After the fucking case in Baton Rouge and all the stress...well I did tell you I went a little crazy on these consults. One of the other things that happens on them is *The Dream*. The fucking Samantha floating through the window kidnapped by God knows what Nightmare...she's yelling. Terrified. Bright blinding light. I can't move. Can't reach her. On my knees. She's yelling - Fox! I'm scared...Help me! Help me! Help meeeee! 

"SAMANTHA!!!!!" I woke up screaming, thrashing, screaming. Hard wall of muscle, warm, arms enfolding, comforting....Dad...? 

"Mulder, it...it's ok. Wake up. It's me....Uh...AD Skin...Uh... Walter. Come on. Shit. Wake up, you're having a nightmare..." 

Confusion. I'm confused. The room is pitch black. The TV? Off now? Who? What the hell? 

"Whaaat?" I managed to croak out. 

"It's ok...Fox. You're ok, guy. It was a nightmare." 

I knew it was Walter by that point of course. How the hell did he get in here - Oh yeah, connecting door. Over here in the dark? - right - TV had been on. I was trying to think. To process data. But I was still dazed, disorientated. I always am after one of these dreams. When I'm with Scully and have one, I cling to her and she holds me close. She cradles my head against her tits. They're so nice and soft. Warm. She rocks me. I love it when she rocks me. 

Walter...Walter could rock me too. Hard, wide chest instead of soft cushiony...but warm, and sort of soft too really. Chest hair, and the smell of Old Spice... 

"Hold me...please..just..." I was shaking like a leaf in the wind. 

"I'm holding you buddy. Don't...it's going to be all right." 

And then he did rock me. He pulled me up a little further into his strong embrace, and in the pitch black room he began to rock me in his arms. 

My head was tucked in under his chin and his hands made gentle, lazy circles on my back. We sat like that for a while. Walter rubbing, and me stuck to his chest like glue, eyes shut as I trembled against him. Finally I started to come back to myself, and the shaking slowed, and then stopped. 

Walter continued to run his hands up and down my back. It was a comforting touch and then suddenly it wasn't just comforting any longer. It was...Walter began to caress my back, stroking, touching me like a lover. He ran his hands down my spine and onto my ass. My mind jumped to instant alertness then. Oh oh I thought. Maybe it's time we had our little talk now. I touched his arm. Felt the stitches. He'd taken the bandage off. 

He stiffened immediately under my touch, pulled back and released me. 

I couldn't see his face very well in the dark even though my eyes had adjusted somewhat. But I heard his sharp intake of breath. 

"I'd better go..." he mumbled, "you're ok now. I'll leave." He got up off the bed and turning, headed back for the connecting door. I could make out his white BVDs hugging that gorgeous rock hard ass as his legs carried him away. 

Oh fucking hell. What could I do to...I blurted out the first thing that came into my mind. Something that I thought would get his attention...get him to come back to me. 

"Walter, I saw you in the bar tonight." Bingo. He stopped dead in his tracks. 

Even in the dark I could see every muscle in his body tense. Talk about your flight or fight response. Oh shit. Fight? Lord God, I hoped not. He'd kill me. 

"Mulder..." the note of betrayal, of pain, of absolute self-doubt, self-loathing in his voice on uttering my name was horrible to hear. 

I got up off the bed very slowly, and approached him from behind. I touched his shoulder and gently turned him. His face was open. Unguarded. He probably, maybe, thought I couldn't see his face or his eyes in the dark. But I could, even behind his specs. His sad, frightened, eyes. Frightened but full of arousal. Filled with arousal and with his unshed tears. And then the tears fell. They trickled down his cheeks. 

"I'm sorry..." he whispered. 

"Walter, there's nothing to be sorry about," I whispered in return. I moved close and reaching up, thumbed the tears from his face. 

He took in a shaky breath and let it out. He was going to say something else but I put a finger to his lips... 

"Shhhh, it's all right." 

"Mulder, we have to talk about this..." he rumbled around my finger. The vibration tickled my fingertip. 

"Do you really want to talk now?" I asked looking into his eyes. There was relief there suddenly. Relief as he began to realize what I was saying, doing. What it meant. 

"No, I guess...no," he replied, swallowing. 

I smiled and bending forward, pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. His entire body sagged against me. I think he went weak in the knees. Holy Christ. I hoped he wasn't going to keel over like a felled tree. He was heavy. I entwined my arms around his body to hold him upright. He made some kind of groan or moan in his throat. I moved my hands up to either side of his head and gripped him to deepen the kiss. It hadn't even occurred to him to open his mouth. I think he was in shock. 

I stroked his lips with the tip of my tongue and oh yeah, he opened his mouth then. All cylinders were firing at once, baby. He sucked me in and we were sucking face big time. Oh Jesus. He tasted good. Like, like...Crest toothpaste. Cool, and fresh but Oh God, Hot. Molten hot. 

"Mulder..." he moaned my name. Damn. I broke the kiss and pushed him back just a little. 

"Mulder?" This time it was a question. I thought well, maybe we had better talk about this a little. I was loathe to break the magic moment here but Walter isn't the most verbal man. Communicative I mean. Fuck, that's obvious isn't it? If he had wanted to talk it must have been a sign that he really needed to do it. I studied his face. Yeah, he wanted to discuss things. OK. I'd give it a shot. 

I smiled into his eyes, "Are you all right?" 

"Jesus..." 

"What happened to Mulder..." I chuckled. 

"Fuck..." 

"Ok." 

"Son of a bitch, Mulder, come on..." 

"All right, all right. I'm sorry. You wanna talk about this after all, don't you?"  

He sighed and I let go of his body and stepped back to give him some space. I kept hold of one of his hands though. I figured he wouldn't bolt and run if I had him in a death grip. 

"Yeah. I need...this is..." 

"Hard?" I couldn't help it I guffawed really loud. To my surprise so did he. It was a nice deep bass belly laugh. His laughing ceased rather quickly however and we stood staring at each other like a couple at a junior high mixer. 

"Can I get you a Coke or something?" I asked finally. I wanted to get his mind on something other then his cock which was bulging against the front of his tightie whities. He was doing his best to ignore the evidence of his arousal. I had to laugh. Walter was as close as he would ever get to fulfilling his fondest wish and he was trying to divorce himself from that Washington Monument he had between his legs. 

"No, I'm fine," he replied. 

Say what? I thought. Oh yeah, right. 

"Well, come on back over and sit down. We can talk. Talk about whatever you want to talk  
about," I told him. 

I let go of his hand then. I wanted him to make the decision to join me on the bed. To give him back some control. I walked back over and climbed up onto the bedspread. Lucky it's a King I thought. Room enough for me and the big guy. Big? Holy Christ I wanted to get those briefs off him so I could see just how big. Oh yes. 

I sat facing him. He sauntered over. Walter doesn't walk exactly. He's very graceful for a large, muscular man. He glides - I don't know. He's sort of got that John Wayne walk thing going sometimes. Prowling too. Like a big fucking leopard. He looked like a leopard coming for me in the dark. 

I patted the bed next to me and he levered himself up and sat across from me Indian Style. 

"So, how about those *big mints* in the urinal?" I asked smirking. 

"Hell, Mulder. Can't you ever be serious. This is my fucking life on the line here. My God damn career," he groaned. 

"And what is it for me?" I asked. 

He looked up at me. Gee Walter, see, I thought. Like Scully would say - the lesson I had at last learned fairly well - this isn't always about you. In this case it would eventually be about all of us. 

"I always thought you were with Scully." 

There it was. Oh for crying out loud. 

"And how long did you keep your mouth shut because you thought I was with Scully?" I asked him quietly. We would discuss Scully and me later. Right now this was about Fox Mulder and Walter Skinner. I touched his knee lightly but drew my hand back when he flinched a bit. 

"Since practically the first day you walked in my office. But how the hell could I say anything? Did you? Come on, Mulder you know how the bureau views gays..." 

"In about as good a light as they view fraternizing between hetero partners." 

"Yeah, well fuck that too. I mean it didn't interfere - your solve rate - Scully...I...Dana Scully's a fine woman, Mulder. I respect her like hell. She's a crack agent too - no question. You two are a team, what the word partners exemplifies. A complimentary blend. I wasn't about to come between...I mean the relationship, the idea that the two of you were probably a couple too wasn't an issue. I didn't give a shit about regs there. I mean fuck, how could I? But like I said, I didn't want to - horn in." He let it all out in a rush and I just let the words fall between us. 

I winced. Jesus H. Christ. He'd been wanting me for that long. Wanted me and never mentioned it out of a combination of respect for Scully, our partnership, and fear? God, he'd covered it so well. He'd covered everything very well. If nothing else Walter S. Skinner was a testament to FBI undercover training. No kidding. He'd gone to such lengths to hide it all so well he'd been married in fact. 

"I take it Sharon was..." 

"Sharon was a good friend Mulder. I married her thinking - well you know, thinking it would change things. It didn't. I tried to give her what she wanted but it didn't work out. She deserved a husband, not just a...a friend. When she asked for the divorce..." he gestured with his hand, palm up. I took his hand and drew it to my lips. I kissed his palm.  

He watched me do it, fascinated as I nuzzled his lifeline. 

"How long?" he asked. 

"How long?" I replied letting him take his hand back. 

"How...since you knew?" he asked. 

"That I liked boys?" 

"Uh, yeah." 

"Forever. You?"  

"I was a late bloomer I guess. Vietnam. I..." 

"You had a lover in Nam?" 

"Lover? Oh, no. I lusted after this guy. It was the first time I entertained the thought that I might be gay. But...shit. Marines don't...well you just didn't, didn't even let on that you felt anything like that for a buddy." 

"After Nam?" 

"No." 

"Walter are you trying to tell me you're a virgin?" 

"A virgin!? Fuck no. I've been married for Christ's..." 

"I mean with men, Walter," I grinned in the dark. Thick right? Well, it was kind of cute. 

"Oh. Yeah." 

I grinned again. Oh brother. Looks like Carmen was right. Fox Mulder cherry buster. Holy Ghost. Who would have thunk it? I was trying really hard not to laugh. It wouldn't do poor Walter's ego any good to have me feeling like David about to put it to Goliath here. When it came right down to it I was only marginally more experienced. A grand total of two lovers to Walter's zip. But at least I knew where the parts fit. This might be kind of fun I thought. A sweet erotic adventure for us both if I could get Walter to go along. Oh yeah - I probably could. He was half way there all ready I realized sneaking a glance down. Whoa. 

"Well, Walter, we all have to start somewhere. Look. If it's any consolation I've lusted after you, as you so succinctly put it, since the day you had to restrain me in the hallway outside your office. When I took a swing at you - those strong arms of yours around me in that hammer lock. Jesus. If I hadn't been drugged to the gills I would have cum right in my pants." 

He was staring goggle eyed at me then. His mouth was hanging open. 

"Don't you think anyone could ever lust for you Walter? Well, I do. Didn't you realize how I felt that day you threw yourself on top of me when I tried to shoot that telemarketing manager...didn't you feel my hard cock pressing against yours. I felt yours big guy... I wanted that hard...  

"Mulder. Christ!" Walter looked away and down at his hands. 

I was getting just a little annoyed at this *Blushing Betty* routine. 

"Walter, look at me." 

He raised his eyes and I touched his chin drawing his head up further. When he met my eyes I moved my hand to touch the side of his face.

"Walter, don't ever be embarrassed about what you want. I'm offering. I'm telling you I feel the same way about you. I want you. I'd like to explore this thing. Maybe have a relationship with you. Can I make myself any more clear here?" 

"Clear? No. But, I'm sorry, Mulder. I'm just not used to hearing this from anyone that I...that I've thought I might...might be in love with, OK. This is killing me here. I feel like I wanna puke." 

"Oh, that's romantic," I laughed harshly, removing my hand. 

"Come, on you know what I mean. I mean look at you. You're a fucking GQ model Mulder. Young. Good looking. Shit - you've got all your fucking hair for Christ sake. You're a God Damn genius. A nutcase, but preternaturally intelligent. And yeah, a friggin' wonder in the field - you more than just got done proving what a good field agent you really are. I mean what could you possibly see in me? You could have anyone you wanted - anyone." 

Jesus I thought. Could he really think so little of himself? All these years I thought he was so in control. Tough. In command. The Boss. This was something of a shock - this vulnerability. He had covered it so well. Closeted this as well as he had closeted being gay. I couldn't let him get away with thinking he was a loser. He was anything but. He had to be made to realize it. 

"For God's sake, Walter. How can you think I wouldn't want you. You're a fantastically desirable man. Handsome. Hard. I mean shit, look at *you*. How many days do you spend in the gym making yourself into a Greek statue? Do you realize how you look? Like Rodin's thinker. Bronze. Like metal. Damn it I don't know how you can think you're not attractive. 

And what's more - you project authority. Power. Scully and I both quake in our shoes every time we have to come up to your office. I spend three quarters of my time figuring out how to circumvent you, get over on you - I mean you're too sharp most of the time for us to get away with anything. The other quarter of my time I fantasize about you. What it would be like to touch you, to get past that hard outer shell you project and inside to the inner you. Into your heart and mind, Walter. 

"Mulder, I'm getting your point, all right. Buddy -you talk too much." 

He was smiling now. Starting to laugh a little. I could tell I had flattered him. I shifted over and moved to sit next to him instead of directly in front. I ran my hand over his scalp. He smiled wider. God, he had a gorgeous smile. I wanted to see him smile like that all the time. 

"And as far as having hair...I think hair is highly overrated under certain circumstances. I shifted right up next to him then and began to follow my hand with my lips. I traced kisses on his scalp and then onto his face and across to his mouth. He smiled as I kissed the corner of his lips. I moved back and he turned his head to trap my eyes. I breathed in, out, in, out. The hawk. The hawk. I was the hawk. 

"Walter, I want to make love with you. Not just fuck. I mean make love. So whadda ya say?" 

I held my breath. This was the moment of truth. Cherry bustin' make it or break it time for sure. 

He brought his hand up and touched my face, taking the whole side of my face in one large hand. He leaned forward and captured my mouth. Oh God Jesus. I was a goner, and so was he, and who the fuck, gave a flying fuck, I...I... 

He was kissing me but his hand was shaking where it held my jaw. The poor guy was still scared to death. Nervous. Well, I was just a bit nervous too. I decided to do something that would be a little more mundane. Familiar. As soon as Walter pulled back for air I spoke. 

"Are you nervous?"  

"Gee, Mulder is it that obvious?" he gave his gruff laugh. 

"Yeah, well...I'm a little nervous too. Why...why don't we start out here with something a little less...why don't I give you a rub down? Would you like that? I give a pretty good massage?" 

"I all ready got that idea...Mulder." 

"I guess you did," I smirked. "And look, does it bother you to call me Mulder?" 

"Scully calls you Mulder. I assumed you preferred it."

"I do, actually."  

"Then I don't mind." 

I smiled. I'm glad he didn't want to call me Fox. My father...well I won't go there.  

"Do you mind me calling you Walter?" 

"Not in the bedroom." 

I smiled again. OK there were going to be some boundaries. That was fine. He needed the room. And after all he was the boss - in the office. 

"Ok, Walt, lie down on your stomach." 

He raised an eyebrow, "Walt?" 

"Would your prefer, Sir?" I replied, laughing. 

He barked his laugh, "Please don't call me sir. Jesus I don't need to hear that right now. Walt, Walter, whatever. But I'd prefer Walter, really." He did as I instructed however as I scooted out of the way. He was flat on his stomach with his arms loose at his sides. He'd pulled a pillow up under his head and neck so his glasses wouldn't be knocked askew. I shifted up and straddled his hips. He let out a heavy sigh. 

"Walter, is this ok? Comfortable?" 

"Oh yeah. Great. Just watch the arm," he advised raising his left. 

"Shit, I'm glad you mentioned it. Thanks." I really had forgotten about the knife wound. We'd have to be a little careful with that arm. 

"Does the arm hurt?" 

"Not anymore. I took a Darvon." 

"Darvon? Walter, are you stoned?" 

"Mulder, get a life. How many Darvons do you think it would take to get me high? It just took the edge off the pain." 

"I see your point," I said as I began to rub the wide, hard muscles of his upper back. Oh Lord. He was...magnificent really. Like I said - how the hell he thought no one could desire this...this beautiful body. The mind boggles. 

I kept my mouth shut for a while. I just reveled in massaging his body. I was finally getting a chance to touch Walter's naked skin and it took my breath away. All the rough parts, and the soft parts. Everything over and under his skin too. The fine hairs on his arms and legs. The hard knobs of his neck vertebrae and spine. His elbow and wrist bones. The tiny freckles just above the waistband of his briefs. The sculpted perfection of it all. 

I worked all the tight spots I could find. And there were quite a lot of them. I used my body leverage to really knead the stiffness out of every sinew. I moved from his neck down his shoulders, upper back, lower back, down onto his ass and all the way down both legs. When I got to his feet I did those too. I found out he wasn't ticklish at all. Figures. I am. I wasn't going to let him know it though. When I got down to his feet I moved back up and started over on his neck again. All those corded muscles were loosening and he was breathing regularly and peacefully. 

He was getting nice and relaxed. I kept my touch impersonal as I repeated the total body massage. It was rather like gentling a horse I thought. Like taming a fabulous stallion. A mustang stud. Just call me the Horse Whisperer. Yes ma'am. I was heading up for my third go around when I suddenly wondered if he was asleep. He was very quiet. Still.  

I leaned forward and kissed the back of his neck. He chuckled.

"Just checking to see if you were awake. 

"I'm awake," he mumbled into the pillow. 

"Awake enough to turn over?" 

I felt him shift under me. 

"Yeah," he whispered. 

I shifted off him so he could turn over. He did it slowly. His body really was relaxed. Loose. The massage had worked a miracle really. His face was a lot less nervous as well. He looked beautiful even in the darkness. My eyes had adjusted and the room didn't seem nearly as dark anyway. I thought distantly -Could it be near dawn? I had no idea. I didn't care. I shifted back up and straddled Walter's hips again just in back of his erection. And he was erect. Achingly so. His cock was straining against his now extra tight BVDs. 

I wanted to rip his briefs off and eat him alive. But I didn't. Instead I let my hands trace over the front of his body. Teasing his nipples, his chest hair, his ribs, his belly button. His breath picked up slightly. I touched the spot over his heart and then I began to trace his other obvious features. His scars. 

"It's a fucking road map isn't it?" he growled as I ran my fingers down into the wound that Luis Cardinal had given him years ago. 

"Life's road map, I guess," I smiled into his glasses. His brow furrowed in thought. I bent forward and kissed where my hands had traced. His hard cock pressed into my stomach. It felt hot, good. Walter sighed and ruffled my hair. I reached the waistband of his briefs and moved back up. I'd seen the tip of a large white scar peaking out of the top. He knew I'd seen it too. I stroked his chest and stomach. 

"I told you I was wounded in Nam..." he began. 

"It's ok, don't worry about it," I whispered. Shit. I had so many scars, including one courtesy of Agent Dana K. Scully, I'd lost count. Who cares really. Walter's scars were earned in battle. In two covert wars really. One then and one now. One for Scully and one for me. 

He was gazing up into my eyes and then he glanced down. So did I. I saw his cock twitch. I looked up and grinned again. 

"Walter, I...I'd better get these off you. You look a little...uncomfortable." 

He looked up into my face and swallowed hard. He glanced down at his pecker again, and then down farther. Well, here you go, Walter, I thought. Like it? I was as hard as a rock and I'd sort of...well, I'd liberated Mr. Johnson from the confines of my boxers while Walter was rolling over. I mean I'd stripped 'em, Aunt Nancy. So my willie was waving in the wind. 

"Like it?" I thought what the hell - never hurts to ask. 

"Yeah," he smiled shyly. Oh hell. I could hardly stand it. This guy was like a great big teddy bear, Winnie the Pooh, going for the honey jar. Yes sir. Oh God. I loved it.

I hooked the waistband of his briefs and started to pull. He helped me by wriggling around until I got the underwear off. I shifted back up and - Oh Brother. 

I was staring at what may have been the most stupendous cock I had ever seen in my entire sex starved life. And that includes the God damn stunt cocks in every one of the fuck tapes in my collection. Scar? What scar. Who gives a shit about your war wound Walter. 

His cock was huge and I mean...thick, and... bobbing to beat the band...and oh well, let's just say it was a mouth full. And I was going to find out just how much of a mouth full in a minute. 

"Walter, I gotta tell you..." 

"Please don't. My ego can't take anymore Mulder," he laughed. 

"Well, I was just going to say, I won't have any trouble finding this thing in the dark," I replied. And then I went down on him. 

"Jesus, God," he cried out, arching his hips up to thrust into my mouth. 

Now, one thing I know how to do is give good head. Ask Scully and if you can find that fucking rat's ass Alex Krycek, ask him. Man or Woman - it's a fact, Jack. I say it with pride and no exaggeration - I'm a master. 

So when Walter yelled "Jesus God" it wasn't because he's religious, all right? But he was about to have a religious experience - to be transported to cocksucking heaven - as I took him in all the way up to the root. As soon as I had him in, I delivered my next surprise. I bore down and sucked him like a fucking Hoover vacuum cleaner. 

It was no easy job deep throating him that fast. But I knew he'd want it, and love it, and I wanted to give him what I knew he'd enjoy. I'm very oral anyway and I have practically no gag reflex. That's part of the secret really. So, I was able to take him in almost right up to his balls every time he thrust forward. Which was lucky because as a virgin he didn't know he shouldn't gag his partner. He would have been choking me to death quite successfully if I was a less talented individual.  

"Oh Oh, Oh..." he was moaning low in his throat. I gave him even more of my specialized attention. He was writhing under me, grasping my hair as I started to move up and down on his cock. I almost let him go for a moment, rimming him with my lips, tongue and teeth and then sucked him all the way back down again with a satisfyingly wet slurp. 

By this point, Walter was pretty much gone. His hips had gone on automatic and so had his vocabulary. I had reduced the AD to grunts and an occasional *Christ* and *Oh Fuck*. I looked up into his face and it was transformed into the second most beautiful fuck face I had ever seen. Scully's is the most beautiful. An angel really. But if she was an angel, Walter was a God. Bacchus, the Roman God of lust or maybe Mars, the God of war. He was a sight to behold - eyes shut, mouth gasping, neck cording as his entire body convulsed upwards. I felt him start to tense tight. He'd been leaking pre-cum so I knew this was pretty much going to be it. 

A guttural roar built up in his chest and throat and exploded out of his open mouth as he came. His warm cum erupted out of his cock and shot down my throat. It seemed like it kept coming forever as he bucked, and bucked, and thrust into me again, and again. Jesus, I thought as the milky fluid back flowed out of my mouth and down over my chin. This guy's like a geyser, like fucking Old Faithful. 

Finally he seemed to be empty and his thrusts started to slow. He collapsed back down onto the mattress, flat, gasping like a great white shark out of water. I let go of his dick and shifted up next to him. He weakly stretched his hand up and wiped his cum from my face. He shook his head in amazement. There was a wide grin on his face. I wiped my face on the pillow next to my head and then I nuzzled his neck. He had lowered his arm again and was gasping hard. 

"Good?" 

"Fuck, yes." 

"I wanted to give you that, Walter." 

"Yeah...God, s'good." He struggled to get his breath back. I let him grow more calm. I watched his chest move up and down, up and down until it was back to a reasonable approximation of normal. Then I started to stroke his neck. I propped myself up on one elbow and chuckled. He still had his glasses on. I'd done him in his specs. 

"What?" he asked smiling. 

I reached up and removed his glasses. 

"We'd better lose these now. Can you see well enough?" 

"It's dark in here, Mulder." 

I laughed. I guess it didn't matter. I reached over him and put the glasses on the night stand. While I was leaning over he reached up and snagged one of my nipples in his teeth. 

"Hey..." I yelped in surprise. He let go and I shifted back to see his face. He looked worried, like he thought he'd displeased me. Shit. 

"No, it...it's ok, I liked it." I touched his face. He didn't have a clue I realized. I mean didn't the guy read? Rent a video or anything? Jesus. Why didn't it surprise me? He was in the office practically 24/7. I don't think he had time to watch the nightly news much less some gay porn video. No. Walter was a workaholic. Just like Scully and just like me. Also he'd been in deep denial about his sexuality. I didn't suppose learning how to make love to his favorite fantasy man was high on his list of priorities. O-K. So, we could start from ground zero I guess. Time to go back to school, Walter. 

"Would you like to touch me too?" I asked quietly. 

"It had crossed my mind," he mumbled. I bet he was blushing I thought. I bet he's glad it's dark. 

"I'd like that, Walter, really," I smiled wide and touched his lips with a fingertip. He captured my hand and kissed my palm. He has great lips. They may look hard but they're not at all. They're quite sensual. Especially when they're swollen from passionate kisses. 

I let him push me back and then over. He levered up and lay beside me. He held my hand, looking at it, turning it over as if he'd never seen it before.  

"You have beautiful hands, Mulder. Elegant. Your fingers remind me of a pianists."  

"Walter, your hands are great too. Large. Warm. When you were rubbing my back...before...I really liked it. It was comforting." 

"Sharon liked my hands too," he replied in that dreamy voice I heard him use in Matthews office in what seemed like years ago now, "I always thought they were rough, callused clumsy." 

My heart flipped in my chest. He sounded so - I don't know - just - I think someone must have told him he was worthless at some point in his life. Walter Skinner puts up a good confident front but...God. 

"Walter. I'd like to feel your hands," I whispered. He let go of my hand at last and he finally began to touch me. I felt like flames ignited on my skin with each stroke of his fingertips. 

He was tentative, unsure. Just the sweetness of his self conscious hesitancy was extremely erotic. It got me as hot as hell. Jesus his hands were warm and if they were callused it only served to chaff my skin in the most exquisite way possible. 

He wasn't bad in his technique as it turned out. He followed his hands with his mouth as I had done, licking and sucking over the entire length of my body. I could tell he was comparing, contrasting, touching to see where I was different. He worked his way down to my feet and then back up again. He was driving me almost to distraction with his lips. I noticed he avoided my cock. I think he was still a little afraid - bashful? I wasn't sure. I was willing to let him go at his own pace and wait however. I murmured words of encouragement to him. Told him at one point that if it was something he had enjoyed I would more than likely enjoy it too. I stroked his head when he moved back up to tongue my nipples. He'd caught on fast that mine were very sensitive. I loved his tongue. God he really had potential as a first class artist there. 

He had me wriggling a little and we started to laugh together again. He was starting to realize it was fun and when he did it made me very glad. 

He discovered my bullet wound. 

"OK, I have to ask...." he grinned. 

"Scully." 

"Right, of course. Jesus, you were lucky she was a good shot." 

"No shit." 

He kissed the scar and then shifted over to press his entire body length to mine. Head to toe. OH God it felt so good. 

"I'm not crushing you am I?" he whispered somewhat breathless. I could hardly breath too but it wasn't because he was crushing me. I was so aroused I knew if I didn't concentrate really hard I was going to come all over his thigh. 

"No, I'm fine. You feel really good Walter. He looked down into my face. He was supporting some of his weight on his forearms. He ran his hands through my hair. I arched up into his hips and ground my cock against his. He was partly erect again all ready. His eyes slipped shut as he savored me rubbing myself against him. 

"Christ you're so ggggood," he stuttered as I pumped into him. 

"You're hard, Walter. Get it up for me." I grated into his ear. He moaned. 

"I...I can't believe again...so soon," he hissed between clenched teeth, "Oh fuck, God..." 

So, at his age I guess he wasn't used to two hard ons in a little over what - an hour? I smiled wide. Yeah, well, he could do it for me that's for sure. And God it felt like it was gonna be bigger than the last one if that was possible. 

He was obviously enjoying grinding against me. He dove for my mouth again and our tongues imitated what our cocks were doing between us. 

We wrestled around a little then too. Just for the hell of it. Our legs were entwined - arms too. It was heady, rough, wonderful. We came to rest facing each other kissing again until I thought I was drowning. All this time I had been holding back. Keeping it up for him. And Lord God it was not an easy job let me tell you folks. 

But I wanted to let him have it all now in a very particular way. I was going to see if I could get him to do the last thing I wanted. The final act that I really desired the most but was almost afraid to ask for. I mean, Christ this was Walter Skinner - uh...well, not the Walter Skinner I'd worked for almost five years, this Walter was a hell of a lot more vulnerable on the inside at least. Inside? Oh Jesus. Still...I needed...I...I was just thinking of asking the question when Walter sort of distracted me. 

He finally got up the nerve to stroke me. He had his hand on my shaft, just gently fondling me. I knew he was working up to really cranking me, God bless him. He wanted to give me what I had given him now. But I had something slightly different in mind. I snuggled in close as he continued to trace his fingers over my cock and balls as well. I whispered into his ear. 

"Walter do you wanna make me cum?" 

"I wanna make you shoot to the moon." 

"I wanna explode like a stick of dynamite for you." 

"Yeah...I'd like that too," he hissed. He started to grip my cock all the way round with one strong hand. I reached down and maneuvered the hand off me.  

"But not this way," I told him as I licked around his ear. I pulled back then and looked into his face. His brow was creasing again. I moved my hand down around and stroked his ass. Ok, Maybe a picture was worth a thousand words. I let my hand wander between his butt cheeks. 

The intake of breath came immediately and his hand left my cock, shot up and captured my arm in a grip of steel. The crushing pain made me grit my teeth. 

His eyes bored into mine like two pools of burning black oil. 

"Walter..." I began. 

He let go of my arm. I hissed out through my clenched jaw. It had hurt. 

"I'm sorry..." he mumbled. 

"No, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have assumed you knew what I was getting at..." 

"Look, I'm cherry, not stupid." Walter interrupted me, "I know what you want. You want it up my ass." 

"And you're uncomfortable with that idea?" I asked quietly. I touched his face again trying to read his eyes. There was something there - he was scared again. 

"Don't you trust me, Walter?" I asked, "I would never hurt you." 

"Mulder, I love you," he whispered. 

Oh God. Well, shit. I guess I expected it. But to hear him say it? I felt myself tearing up. I knew in that instant I loved him too. I didn't want him to be worried or afraid about this last step. I was willing to forget about the whole thing now. I moved close and kissed his forehead and then the tip of his nose and finally his lips. He returned the kiss and when I pulled back he moaned a little at the loss of contact. 

"I love you too, Walter. I mean it." I whispered in return, "We don't have to go any further - go ahead, do me whatever way you'd like. It'll be just fine." I added with all the love I felt for him crowded into my voice.  

"Mulder," he sighed, "this...this is just going to take a little time for me to...oh shit," he let out another shaky breath, "I can not believe this. I've wanted...I mean for almost five years and...now...I...I mean I served in combat for God's sake, Mulder," he ground out, slapping his chest with his open hand. 

"Walter..." 

"...how can I be such a friggin' coward about my feel...Ah, Fuck it!" he lowered his hand and I caught it before he could slap anything else. 

"I know it's hard dealing with these emotions..." I began. 

"For me? Always," he admitted in a quiet voice. 

All I could do was squeeze his fingers and nod my head in sympathetic understanding.  

"I'm a total dick," he sighed. I let go of his hand. 

"Total dick doesn't even come close, big man," I chuckled reaching down to take his cock in my hand. He was pretty close to being completely erect again and Oh yeah - it was even more impressive then before. 

"Yeah, I know that's a monster, you asshole. I've heard it before from half the fucking whores in Nam and my ex-wife too, all right?" he blurted out and then he started to shake with laughter, the nervous tension causing him to lose it at last. 

I started to laugh like hell again. I hugged him close. He groaned and pressed his face into my neck, laughing and then sucking, tasting, kissing, licking. Just like a big cat, that big fucking panther, lapping, lapping at my skin. 

"You taste, smell like...I don't know..." he mumbled, "something musky. Like fucking fox musk..." he growled low in his throat. 

Musk? Oh baby! Shower gel courtesy of Dana K. Scully. 

"S'good, Oh God, Walter..." I moaned as he worked down my neck, across my chest, tonguing each nipple again, over and over, and then back up to rim my ear with his tongue and lips. 

Oh boy, thank you Scully. 

"I want you to fuck me," he suddenly whispered in my ear. 

Thank you twice, Scully. 

I pulled back and looked him in the eyes. 

"Are you sure? You want me to top you?" Well, my mind was just a bit occupied and I hardly believed my ears, OK? 

"All the way," he growled again. 

I nodded. "Right. All right. Hold that thought." 

He raised an eyebrow but grinned a little and nodded. I had to get my lube and condoms. Just call me Eddie Eveready. Fox Mulder eagle scout - always be prepared. 

I slid off the bed, erection swinging, and not wanting too look like the eager little slut I was, did the walk don't run thing, over to my garment bag hanging in the closet. I rummaged around and found the lube but for the life of me I couldn't find the condoms. Son of a bitch. I started pulling stuff out of the bag and tossing it on the closet floor. I hunkered down to search through those clothes as well. Oh shit -I remembered. I had taken them out back in the apartment the night before Scully got the call to go to San Diego. I'd used one to keep things going longer with her and...God damn it...they were sitting in her night stand drawer. Good move Mulder. 

"What's up?" Walter was asking. I heard him shift on the bed. He was propping himself up and I knew he was looking at my white ass bending down as I'd been tossing my clothes around in the air. 

"It's Ok. I...I'll be right there." 

I got up and walked back with the lube. I climbed back onto the bed and he rolled over onto his back. I sat next to him. 

"Is that Astroglide?" 

"Hey, I thought you were cherry?" 

He chuckled, "Like I said - cherry..." 

"But not stupid."  

"Yeah." 

"Look I don't have any condoms so if you don't want to go through with this I'll understand." 

"I'm clean," he shrugged, running his hand down my thigh. I trembled a little under his touch. 

I was clean too for that matter. So was Scully. We'd been tested for every conceivable disease in the world and some out of it. STDs were the least of Scully and my worries. 

"Well, I'm clean too," I smiled. 

"Then do it," he said with finality. 

That's my Walter. Gruff man of action. I love that about him too. 

He sat up and ran his hand down my chest and down over my cock again. He was getting more sure of himself. His touch was more confident. 

"Mulder, I...I don't think I want to do this face to face if that's ok. I'm not...I..." 

I put a finger over his lips again. 

"Shhh. I know. Any way you want it Walter is fine by me." 

I knew he didn't want me to see his face. Wasn't quite ready to let me in that much. Couldn't allow me to view that last total opening, the revealing of self I would see when I was inside him and he came. He trusted me but not enough yet to let me see his soul laid bare when I possessed him. I was a little sad he didn't trust me enough. But I knew it was a lot to expect from someone like Walter. I also knew that the trust would come eventually. We'd gotten this far. We'd journey the rest of the way before long. 

He nodded his thanks. 

"OK, so. I guess I'll need you up on your hands and knees, buddy. You can assume the position that way," I suggested pointing towards the headboard. 

He chuckled at my wording of the suggestion, and I moved back as he got up and shifted onto his hands and knees. 

"How's the arm, Walter? I mean the stitches?" I was a little worried the position would put a strain on his knife wound. 

"What damn stitches?" 

OK, that answered that question.

I knelt in back of Walter and surveyed the territory. Man, he had a gorgeous ass. A really nice, hard package. I knew it was going to be hot and tight too. I just hoped not too tight. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt him. I reached forward between his legs and ran his balls between my fingers. That got a rise out of him. 

"GGGod," he moaned, "Can you...Just a little softer..." he husked. 

I let up on the pressure, "Like this?" 

"Oh yeah." 

He was rocking his hips slightly as I massaged his balls in their sack. He had a very fine fuzz over his scrotum, soft down. Nice. I moved my hand forward, still cupping his nuts and uncurled a finger, trailing it along the underside of his hard on up to the tip. He hissed with my touch. 

"Mulder, if you keep that up I'm gonna lose it and I don't think I'm good for three in a night." 

I chuckled, letting go of his assets. Before I moved back I planted a kiss on his butt. 

He barked a laugh.  

"What?" 

"I always wanted you to kiss my ass," he was shaking with laughter. 

"Thought so, Boss man," I grinned. I uncapped the lube, squeezed some out and stuck it cold right between his cheeks. He yelped like a scalded cat and shot forward onto his forearms. 

"Gottcha." 

He did laugh. "Ok, I guess I had that coming," he growled but with humor. I let him get back up on his hands and knees. 

"Oh, you've got it coming all right," I replied. I squeezed out more lube and warmed it up quickly between my palms. I slicked up my fingers and probed carefully between his cheeks touching his anus. I had to wipe my other hand on my stomach so I could get a grip on his left hip. I started to push in the first finger. 

"Take a breath, Walter," I advised him. When he did I worked the finger all the way in. He hissed but took it just fine. 

"I need to work at least three in here, Walter, so relax and take a breath when you feel each one. Work with me and it'll be fine. OK?" 

"Yeah, feels good," he craned his head around to look at me but then moved it back. He tilted his chin down against his chest. He was going to concentrate now so I let him do it. His mouth opened and his breath came in shallow pants. 

I'm no where near as thick as he is but I'm not small. And I'm long. I knew I was going to hurt him if I didn't get at least 3 fingers in to loosen him up. I worked the second one in. He was doing quite well with the *take deep breath* instructions. I stroked my fingers inside him, angling to find his prostate. He jerked forward with a hoarse shout of pleasure when I found it. 

"FUCK!" 

"Like it?" 

"You fucker...God yes." 

"Oh Yeah..." I hissed. I stroked him again and he moaned from all the way down where my fingers were flicking him. When he was at the height of the moan I pressed the third finger in and his voice rose up an octave and he rocked back into my hand. 

"My, my Walter, you are a slut," it was my turn to growl now. Oh, this was fun.  

"I'm dying, Mulder. I mean I've died and gone to queer heaven, you crazy asshole..." he hissed through his teeth. 

We stayed that way for a bit, me stroking inside him, and him rocking and moaning against my hand until I knew he wouldn't be able to take much more without wanting the rest. 

"Oh Jesus, please..." Walter groaned at last. I wasn't going to make him beg for my cock no matter how tempting the idea was to do it. He deserved more respect. I pulled out my fingers and wiped them quickly on the bedspread. I fished for the lube and squeezed more out, warming it again. I slicked my cock up with a liberal amount and put the rest between his butt cheeks. I wiped my hands a last time and then gripped his hips. 

"You ready?" I asked him quietly,. I tenderly stroked both his hips. His muscles trembled slightly. 

He nodded once. I pressed my cock against him and started to push. I was biting my lower lip, concentrating to stay slow and gentle, to maintain a steady pressure. The urge to ram in hard, fast and deep was almost too strong. 

"Ohhhh," Walter moaned. 

I stopped, "Breath in, big guy. Hang in there." 

"Jesus, just do it." 

"This isn't the fucking Marines, Walter. I'm not going to drill you here. Relax. I don't wanna hurt you." I hissed. Christ he was tight. But God it felt really marvelous. I grabbed his hips more firmly and continued to thrust. I finally felt him loosen completely and then I was inside up to my balls. 

I settled against him. I was breathing hard by this time and he was panting like he'd run a marathon. 

"Are you ok? I asked. 

"Yeah," he nodded, "I...Christ. Your cock feels...GGGod," he whispered.

Well that did it for me. I moaned his name and he gave me an order then that I had no problem obeying from my boss - no problem at all. 

"Come on, give it to me!" 

I pulled back and then moved forward with a long, slow, deep thrust. He grunted under his breath and came up off the bed and back against my hips so hard he lifted me up. Well this was going to be some ride I thought. I shifted my hands up to get better support and stabilize myself and then I began to move against his hard muscular ass. 

"Fast or slow?" I husked. I thought I'd better give him one last chance. I knew what I wanted to do. But this wasn't about me tonight. It was about Walter. 

"Fuck me hard."  

All righty then.  

On the next backthrust I pulled all the way out and crashed forward as hard as I dared.  

"GOD YES!!!!!" He howled and that was the last coherent word he said. We began to pound against each other, fast and furious. I couldn't believe he was taking it. All of me, and as hard as I could piston into him. Maybe I should have told him he was going to be sore in the morning. Maybe I should have told myself I'd be too. But I didn't care. I was beyond thought as I drove in deep. The sensation of a hot, tight virgin ass was too much. I just let myself go on autopilot, pumping and grunting against him as Walter ground his ass back against me every time I thrust forward. We were in perfect rhythm - breath, body and soul. 

At the last I angled up, seeking to give him that ultimate internal ecstasy again, simultaneously reaching forward to grab his cock in my fist. 

He cried out as I bumped his prostate, and clamped my hand around his straining cock. He was so close anyway by then that one stroke brought him off. He yelled out, shooting cum all over my hand, his thighs and the bedspread. Walter was sobbing as I milked him. I felt my own orgasm rushing, rushing towards me like a roaring, fire breathing dragon. Its flaming breath licked up my cock, up my spine and into my brain, boiling it. 

"GOD...GOD!" I screamed, dropping his cock and grabbing his hips with both hands again so I could pull almost all the way out. I felt cool air for a second and then I rammed into Walter for one last hard thrust. "FUCK!" I choked out and then I exploded. 

"You bbbbitch," Walter shouted as I shot into him. He was clamping down around me and the exquisite, smooth spasms were wringing every last drop out of my balls. I groaned loud, continuing to ride my climax all the way to the end. 

Walter grew weak in the knees at the last and fell forward, flat on his face and I fell down on top of him. 

We were shaking with the force of our respective orgasms and laughing as well. It was so good. Wonderful to know he had enjoyed himself so much. I wanted to see his face then. To see the smile that I knew would be on it. I pulled carefully out and shifted up, feeling around for my boxers so I could wipe off. I snagged them fairly fast and after I was clean I reached over and swabbed Walter off as well. I lay down next to him on my side. 

"Roll over, Walter," I whispered. He pushed up and did as I asked, facing me. The smile was there. 

"You're beautiful," I breathed touching his cheek. 

"I'm done," he laughed, coughing. His breathing was trying to return to normal.  

"Well done." 

"Fucking A." 

He was exhausted. I was surprised he wasn't rolling over and going right to sleep. But he didn't. Instead he pushed me back flat and laid his head on my chest. 

"Is this ok for you?" he asked quietly. 

"Fine. You wanna go to sleep?" 

"Yeah. If I get uncomfortable, just push me off. I'll probably never feel it." 

"Ok Boss." 

"Mulder?" 

"Yeah?" 

"I...Thanks." 

"Don't mention it," I yawned. I brought my arm up and wrapped it around his shoulder. He tenderly ran his hand over my heart and then followed his fingers with a feather light kiss. 

Walter was asleep in under 5 minutes I think. When he started to snore I did shift him off and rolled him onto his side getting him more comfortable. I slid over to look at the clock on the night stand. 5 AM. Oh brother. No wonder the room looked like dusk now instead of midnight. The heavy curtains were blacking out the rising sun. 

Well damn. I shrugged and set the alarm for noon. Fuck 'em. Carmen knew this would be a possibility. I could only hope she'd take care of things and run interference until we could come around. Let the fucking locals handle the media for a while. If it was a problem Carmen or SAC Matthews could always call up here and roust us. I had no doubt one of them would. It didn't matter which one of us answered which phone. The rooms connected and no one knew whether we were sleeping, taking a piss or in the shower - so who the hell cared anyway.  

I rolled back over next to the hard, warm mass of my big bed buddy and snuggled up close, spooning next to his back. Boy he's a natural radiator I thought. Lucky I jacked up the AC earlier. I'd really enjoy having him next to me in winter. 

I stretched an arm around his waist and pulled him close. Walter sighed and mumbled "fox musk..." I smiled. I really would have to thank Scully for that shower gel. Scully? My Scully. God, I love her so much too. We'd need to talk about things when I got back. I know she'll understand about Walter. I'd need to talk to Walter about her as well. I hope he'll understand how much she means to me, how much we mean to each other. I think he'll see and understand. I started to think that maybe, just maybe the three of us could...will face whatever lies ahead. Face it, face it all together.

  
-THE END OF THE WHOLE STORY-

 

* * *

 

TITLE: Discordia Concors  
NAME: frogdoggie  
E-MAIL:   
CATEGORY: SRA  
RATING: NC-17. This story contains VERY GRAPHIC CONSENSUAL SEX BETWEEN MEN. So, if you don't like that type of thing -STOP NOW! Forewarned is forearmed.  
SUMMARY: Mulder and Skinner deal with the aftermath of Baton Rouge. Can their new relationship survive the Scully factor? Read on and find out.   
Obviously you may want to read my previous story, "Baton Rouge" to understand this narrative. "Baton Rouge" can be found on my web site at: http://www.squidge.org/3wstop  
FEEDBACK - YES PLEASE, AND THANK YOU SIR, CAN I HAVE ANOTHER? Comments, suggestions and healthy debate are always welcome. Flames? I use them to roast weenies, hamburgers and Italian sausages on the grill.  
TIMESPAN/SPOILER WARNING.: After the film I think - next season? I do deal with events from the film but bearing in mind the nature of the relationships in this story I had to mess with the mytharc a bit.  
KEYWORDS: story angst slash Skinner Mulder NC-17  
DISCLAIMER: Fox Mulder, Walter Skinner, Dana Scully, Jana Cassidy, Jeffrey Spender and all other X-Files characters belong to Chris Carter, Ten-Thirteen Productions and 20th Century FOX Broadcasting. No copyright infringement is intended and no profit is being made from their use. 

Author's Notes at the end. 

* * *

Discordia Concors  
by frogdoggie  
8/17/98

discordia concors: Latin for harmonious discord: harmony or unity gained by combining disparate or conflicting elements.  
\- Merriam Webster's Collegiate Dictionary 

I've never had a woman throw a shoe at me. A vase, but never a shoe. Phoebe beaned me with the vase. In a London hotel. Typical Pheebe histrionics. "Fox - you bloody wanker!" Whiz - Crash. Of course, it wasn't her damn vase. But that was typical too. She was good at destroying other people's property. I still have the scar right above my hairline over my left eye. Her aim sucked. She was looking to nail me in the nuts. 

Now Scully lobbed that shoe with all the accuracy of an ace major league pitcher. And I think she even put a curve on that pump. It seemed like she was off to my left somewhere, and wham - plush pump bullseye smack in the middle of my forehead. Bruise city. I yelled "Batter take your base?" and she threw the other heel. "Missed me, missed me, now you gotta kiss me!" Well that retort went over like a lead balloon too. I ducked into the can and locked the door thinking the Smith and Wesson was coming out next. There is precedence after all. 

And why was she resorting to high heel hard ball you ask? Well, it was because I had finally gotten around to telling her about Walter. I mean explaining that Walter Skinner and I were lovers. Scully and I had just gotten through a 48 hour fuck fest ourselves and I thought - well, Mulder, you big love monkey you - maybe it's about time you told her what went on between you and Walter during that VCS case in Baton Rouge. How Walter was a closet queer and a virgin to boot. How you fell hopelessly in love, and in lust. How you burst Walter's cherry and...well you get the picture. 

Christ - I had to tell her. Scully and I don't keep anything from each other any longer. We're way past that little boondoggle in our relationship for God's sake. It was just that there hadn't been much opportunity lately to go into the nitty gritty of *Wally World*. Walter was a complicated subject - not something I felt comfortable talking to my other life and work partner about over a bowl of *clear your sinus* chili at our next Denny's dinner break. These delicate descriptions of desire take time. Scully and I just hadn't had enough slack seconds in months. More about that in a moment. 

At any rate, she hurled the high heel missile not because she was angry that Walter and I are lovers. She had always said she wouldn't begrudge me a male lover. She more then understands my needs in that area. And of course she likes and respects Walter. He comes under that heading I told you about once. The *might be an acceptable male* heading. 

No, she was pissed because I had delayed telling her about Walter for several months. But for Christ sake, Dallas and freezing our buns off (not to mention almost dying), in Antarctica were sort of sandwiched in there you know. "When was there time, Dana?" I kept asking her. She kept kvetching about lying bundled up with me in the Sno-Cat while we ran out what was left of the gas in the tank trying to stay alive. Help would arrive. I knew it was coming because I'd called it down before hand. I just wasn't positive it would come in time. 

"Why didn't you say something when we were lying nose to nose, Mulder. Huh, huh?" she insisted on asking. 

Well good Lord woman, you were too busy sucking my face for me to get a word in edgewise anyway. Of course maybe the fact that I'd made love to her to keep her warm might have had something to do with her response there. She woke up in the Sno-Cat with both my hands under the parka I'd dressed her in. I certainly got a great big smile along with the raised eyebrow. She'd gotten the message when I teased her nipples. Oh yeah. Making love just seemed so right. Besides warming us up really fast - we... we felt like it might have been the last time you know. If the helicopters hadn't come...well I don't even want to think about that happening to her. I hadn't wanted it to happen in that fucking *Mothership* and I was damned if I'd let it happen out on that ice plain. We made love and then afterwards I made her laugh like hell at every lame joke in my repertoire too -anything to keep her awake, aware and alive. 

When we heard the choppers we felt like celebrating even though we were close to collapse. We were alive against all odds and we felt on top of the world. I'd regained my faith in the fight and Scully was right there with me now every step of the way. 

Speaking of choppers - I do have one little side issue here. You know what? I sort of thought Scully would have smelled a rat down in Antarctica as well. I mean tweaked on to the idea that maybe Walter and I felt something for each other? But her mind wasn't looking for a connection between Walter and me so perhaps I'm wrong in that hypothesis. Besides that - she passed out again shortly after the helicopters reached us. 

But who saw to it that we were rescued? Well, besides the Lone Gunmen? Walter, that's who. I had made one call to the LGM before I drove across the edge of the Ross Ice Shelf. I didn't want to call any of Walter's numbers for fear the call would be intercepted. But I told Frohike to contact Walter immediately and give him the coordinates. The AD came to Antarctica for crying out loud. I don't know how he managed to swing that trip but he was in the first chopper that touched down on the snow. 

It was incredibly touching to see him there. I was beyond words. Scully was groggy and all she managed to croak out was - "Sir?" Walter was so wonderful with her too. "It's ok, Scully," he'd told her as he stroked her hair. "We're going to get you warmed up. Just hang on." he added and then he picked her up like she was a rag doll and took her to the waiting copter after she'd fainted again.  

He was trying to hold it all in too - the worry, the caring...everything. Fuck. He must have been utterly panicked but he was still so afraid to let any of it show. He's still very good at keeping it undercover, in the closet. He's my undercover man in more ways than one. But when he faced me in that copter the depth of his emotions was plain to see if only for a few heartbeats. My heart swelled with the sight. If I had any doubts that he loved me they were banished in that noisy helicopter when I looked into his eyes. 

I still remember him helping me to break out of the hospital. Hell, he was willing to go after Scully himself if I'd been incapable. But the look of desolation when he realized I was going to go it alone coupled with the realization that he knew there was no way he could go with me was terrible to see. Leaving him was hard but he's a big boy. I knew he'd cope. And this was Scully. There was no way in hell I wasn't going. No fucking way. 

On the ice, Walter couldn't show his relief in finding either of us. His relief at finding me alive. In the copter he helped to wrap us in insulated blankets and surreptitiously held my hand when he thought no one was looking. I squeezed his fingers to let him know I was appreciative. When they loaded us off at the Air Force base hospital he had one moment, bending close to my ear, to tell me he loved me. It was such a risk. I teared up and the tears felt so cold in my eyes. I mouthed the same words back. I meant them with every fiber of my being. He smiled and I knew my faith to fight on had another ally besides my Scully. But Scully missed all of these events. It took another grueling X-File, a weekend of sexual healing and the aforementioned tossed shoes to get us into synch on Walter Skinner. 

But, when all was said and done Scully had a good reason I guess for hating the fact I'd delayed revealing my relationship with the AD. 

Scully had decided Walter would make a good match for her mother, Maggie. Yikes. I imagine she was just a tad embarrassed to find out why Walter hadn't been receptive to her veiled suggestions that her mother was dating again and he might consider squiring her to some official FBI function if he had the inclination. Holy shit! Well needless to say, Walter's inclinations don't run in that direction. At least not if he has a choice. And sometimes he doesn't have one. More about that later too. 

But - how the hell Scully ever got up the nerve to even make a veiled suggestion to *The Boss* regarding Mrs. Scully I'll never know. She has always been distant and professional with him. A bit nervously stand offish in acknowledgment of his authority. He makes her think of her late father. Maybe that's what precipitated the dating idea. Who knows. But she did hint and Walter acted as thick as a brick over the suggestion. That's his defense mechanism - obtuseness - when he needs to draw on it. Scully kept after him though so that must be really grating on her now too. C'est la vie. I think circumstances here just worked against us. Scully and I are all right with it now. She just wants me to tell Walter about us now too. Well, I'm getting around to it. I really am. 

When we returned from Baton Rouge Walter and I more or less went our separate ways. Our reactions there were a bit of a defense mechanism as well, I believe. I mean things had been so intense that last night in the hotel. Intense the whole damn time down in Baton Rouge. Walter needed time to decompress and I needed time with Scully in the worst way. She'd gotten back from San Diego and was needing my special tender loving care and made no bones about it when I walked into her apartment. 

So, it was once more into the breach Mulder and I was ecstatic to do it. No question. God, it felt so fantastic to be in her arms. Scully and I didn't see the outside of her place for 24 hours. I took a few days off after that as well just to get my personal affairs together. A trip to Connecticut to visit my mother presented itself. I'd put off seeing mom for too long. When I returned Scully and I were on the road again. New Hampshire. Well the mountains were scenic. Then we went to Arkansas, Utah, back east to New York then to...well you get the idea. 

Then there was the fire. And then came Dallas and Anarctica. Scully and I took some time off after our date with the Mothership. A few days. It doesn't sound long enough does it? Yeah, well it's true the frostbite had hardly healed before we were back in the saddle again. But, I did sense a new eagerness in Scully to get back to work. And truth be told I was champing at the proverbial bit as well. So it was the endless roadtrip scenario once more. We were off to Maine and then Wisconsin, Washington, Rhode Island, California, New Jersey. My partner and I started to feel like pinballs getting slapped from one coast to the other. If work was what we craved the Bureau was more than happy to oblige. 

I did manage to see Walter for one night in there somewhere. We had dinner out and sat around talking at his apartment afterwards. The new apartment. Walter moved up in the world. He still lives in the same building in that Crystal City high rise but when one of the two bedrooms on the top floor became available The Boss moved up to that nosebleed neighborhood. The new apartment has some view and he got the home office he wanted and needed in the form of the second bedroom. I wish I'd been around to help the big man move. I could have thought of some inventive ways to christen his new accommodations. Oh yes. 

At any rate, that evening was when he told me the basement office was going to be renovated. Scully and I were still in temporary quarters over in VCS. But, since the fire hadn't caused as much structural damage as originally thought the powers that be deemed the basement digs salvageable. So, plans were slowly progressing in that direction. He was a little shamefaced about our being shoved back into the bowels of the Hoover Building. But I could have cared less really. My faith was renewed and the location for our battle was less important then the actual war. I ended up staying over. We slept together - just slept. No sex. I think both of us were still a little shell shocked and I know I was totally exhausted. I found out though that the AD gives a pretty decent back massage himself. His hands sent me to sleep before I even realized he was doing it. I haven't seen him alone since that night. I miss my big bed buddy fiercely, madly, deeply. 

So, that sort of brings me up to the present. It's the end of October. Halloween's next weekend. Scully and I have just moved back into the basement. It's not quite the same. Some accouterments are a hell of a lot better, especially for *La Scully*. We have separate very rich looking wooden desks with comfortable ergonomic chairs and ta da - our own individual nameplates. The rest looks like most people's version of a disaster area all ready. The Mulder touch strikes again to make things more comfortable. My little homey anti-Martha Stewart efforts. Scully isn't complaining either. She's hyped on her new desk, nameplate, PC, laptop, phone and personal extension, individual coffee pot, new mug, etc. etc. So many changes. I wish we had the files back though. Christ I do angst over them. That's one change I'd like to see taken back. But the rest...  

We have Walter to thank for the good changes. He pressed and he pressed hard for them. After his less than gentle upper echelon rumble with that bitch Jana Cassidy from OPR to reopen the X-Files, Walter took advantage of his victory. He really stuck it to her on the remodeling. He got everything he wanted for us in that area. I still wonder if he should have been less...vengeful concerning Ms. Cassidy. Less the butch faggot in rubbing her *how dare you lady* nose in his machismo one-up-manship. She was such a ball breaker though I can see where he was tempted to do it. She needed someone to yank her down a notch and Walter was just the boy to do it too. But if he hadn't been such a cocksucker things might have gone differently. But who would have even dreamed what her frigging reaction would be to all that Walter Skinner forcefulness. I didn't see it coming. No sirree. Just wait. You'll suck a lemon too when you get to that part of my little narrative. Remember I said choices? Oh yeah. 

So, Scully and I sat in the basement on a Thursday afternoon going through endless reams of paperwork from our last trip to *hole in the wall*, *nowherewierdsville* USA. 

"Mulder, don't forget I'm visiting my mother this weekend," she had just finished telling me. She was leaving Friday morning. Three day weekend. Maggie Scully deserved it. She hadn't seen her daughter in a coons age. I was supposed to grab Scully's mail for her.  

"Yes, ma'am. Mulder mailman at your service." 

"Thank you kind sir," she smiled back at me. She looked so relaxed and radiant despite having been up to her knees in sheep shit only two days ago. No one could look as good as Dana Scully could even if the person had been up to their eyeballs in...well she just looked superb. 

"So what are your weekend plans?" she asked as she typed some more case notes into her PC. Click, click, click. I grew fascinated for a second just watching her graceful fingers fly over the keyboard. I hunt and peck. Had been doing it for two hours. But Scully? She's a keyboard virtuoso. 

I opened my mouth to reply, "No plans, light of my life," when my phone rang. In house call. /Then again/, I thought. I picked it up. 

"Mulder." 

"Mulder, I'd like to see you in my office. I have some questions regarding your part of this expense report." 

Walter weekend calling I thought. I hoped anyway. Jesus I missed him too. Missed him just like I was starting to miss Scully all ready even though she was only going for a weekend with Maggie.

"Yes sir, I'll be right up." 

"Fine," he replied tersely and hung up. I dropped the receiver gently into the cradle. I was staring at the phone a little too long. Scully noticed my pensive look. 

"Expense report grilling," I shrugged at her. 

"Are you going to tell him?" 

I looked over at her. Eyebrow time. Oh brother. I sighed.  

"In his office? What do you think?" 

They suck the Hoover for bugs more than the LGM sweep their flea bitten dump of an office which is saying a lot. But Scully and I were never sure whether the walls had ears. So we didn't discuss too many personal or sensitive business items on the JOB. Oh sure, sometimes it couldn't be helped. The sexual innuendo down here gets pretty thick sometimes for example. But as a rule we're a trifle circumspect. And, I sure as hell didn't want to whisper sweet nothings into Walter's ear in his office either. But as it turned out I was a fool for love - what can I say. 

"You know what I mean," she went back to typing. Her lips were pursing. Oh lovely. Just the weekend send off I needed - Dana "Dies Irae" Scully. Shit. 

"Look, if the opportunity presents itself later (like after a great roll in the hay this weekend), I'll broach the subject, OK?" I replied. I tried to keep the annoyance out of my voice but it was hard. 

"Don't you think that would be best?" she asked looking up at me again over her glasses. 

Oh Lord. "No I think we should just lie like rugs for as long as we can, Dana. Why let on that..." 

"All right, all right, I get the point," she chuckled slightly. 

"I'm so glad I can make you laugh," I groused getting up and pulling on my suit coat. 

"Oh, I'm sorry, really, Mulder. But, Fox, if you could see your face." 

"Yeah? What about my face?" 

My turn to arch the eyebrow. You'll notice we use those first names now. Almost dying on the fucking *Aliens* wannabe Mothership in Antarctica did that to us. We fall into that familiarity quite often now. It's weird - we do it in the office the most. When we're in bed it's still Scully and Mulder. Believe it or not, Mr. Ripley. Strange but true. 

"You look like what's his name - like Dudley Moore in Ten when he was lusting after Bo Derrick." 

"Oh thanks a lot, you bitch," I start to laugh like hell, "I'll remember that little observation, just you wait." Visions of Walter running on a beach with a hell of a lot more hair jump into my mind. I start to laugh even more hard. I tried to stop it though. I didn't want to show up in Walter's office with my schnoze all red and dripping snot after all. 

Scully was laughing hard now too, "Takes one to know one, Mulder." 

"One?" 

"Bitch to know another..." 

"No shit, Ms. Joan Crawford. Or is it Bette today, Baby Jane?" I could throw a few more famous, brazen fag hags at her but she's gotten the point. However, she does have one last zinger up her sleeve. Boy if this place is bugged the dorks eavesdropping are getting a fucking weird fruity earful here. 

"Want to borrow my copy of Bolero?" she chokes out as I stride to the office door. Gotcha Mulder. 

I turn, red faced with mirth. My eyes are watering with my vain attempt to shut off my laughter. 

"I'll think about it Ms. Garland," I volley back. 

"All right, Scarecrow. But just remember - we aren't in Kansas any more," she finishes with a blithe little wave of her hand. 

"Yeah, we were in fucking Hoboken," I end on that brilliant note, adjusting my tie and smoothing my hair as I leave. She's whistling *Somewhere Over the Rainbow* at her Pledge shiny wooden desk and I shake my head as I enter the elevator. 

Kimberly Cook lies in wait outside Walter's door. Some agents consider her the *Dragon Lady*, guarding Walter's inner sanctum from all intruders. Kimberly's really a doll if you know how to handle her. We get along just fine. I smile good afternoon at her.  

"Mulder, wipe that smirk off your face, he's on the warpath - it's not going to help." Kimberly advises as soon as I'm standing in front of her desk. She likes me, so I get the warning. If it was say, Agent Colter, she'd let him walk into the lion's den with a steak hanging around his neck. 

Oh Oh, I think. Maybe this really is an expense report grilling after all. I start to think back over my charges in a desperate attempt to get them straight in my head. For the life of me I can't come up with any gross errors for a change. The effort to reconcile my costs wipes the grin from my face quite successfully. My brow furrows and my lips set in a tight line. Kimberly takes in the change in my demeanor. 

"Passable," she notes, "you look just like him. Now get in there. He's probably tapping his foot by now." 

Christ all mighty. I swallow and prepare to scale the walls of the castle keep. 

Walter is standing behind his desk with his back to the door. His hands are in his pockets and he's looking out his office window. I can tell his back is tense. I clear my throat. 

"Sit down, Mulder," he orders without turning around. 

I park it in one of the hot seats in front of his desk. He runs a hand over the back of his neck, twists his head to get that satisfying vertebrae crack. I wince. He finally turns around.  

Well he does look like he missed his Metamucil again this morning. 

"Sir?" I ask. 

"Corporation for Public Broadcasting," he throws back at me.  

/What the fuck?/ runs across my frontal lobe. 

"What?" 

"The building across the street. A couple of floors house The Corporation for Public Broadcasting." he sighs. 

Oh yeah, of course. Now I get the reference. I lean forward in the chair to get a closer view out the window. "Is that woman showing off her bike shorts again? You know, that cute little number with the spandex under her..." 

"Yeah, she's not bad at all if I cared to go there. But no, sorry. I was just thinking about...real public service." he shrugs and sits down at his desk. I step back 

Oh blow me. I hope this isn't going to be a mid-life crisis moment here flashes through my mind. Well if it is I guess I'd better deal with it. After all, when I make a life commitment with someone it's for better or worse. I don't dick around. It's not my way. I wait patiently for Walter to release the next salvo.

He continues to stare at me. All right, I'll bite I figure. What the fuck's up. 

"Did you want to see me about the expense report, sir?" I ask. 

"I just wanted to see you," he replies quietly, "I haven't...Mulder, it's been weeks. Crap," he shakes his head ruefully and smiles a little. Oh God. I'm starting to feel warm and my stomach is fluttering all over. He looks gorgeous. The big softy. He misses me too. I can't believe he's saying this here though. I just hope the Hoover bug suck works or we are in deep doo doo. Maybe I should consider smuggling Frohike or Langly in here for a really professional going over. Their bug hunting methods are fool proof. Walter is looking at me again and I'm suddenly lost in the depths of his liquid brown eyes. 

"I know, I've missed you too. It's the circumstances, Walter. But it hasn't been easy." 

"No shit," he nodded looking down under my intense scrutiny. He picked up some papers on his desk and shuffled them around a little before he met my eyes again. 

"So, what do you want to do about it?" I asked. Walter likes the direct approach. I decide on a full frontal assault. Full frontal? Hell yes I'd like a full frontal...full body press...skin to skin... Hump his brains out in his executive washroom. God, I'd like to strip him naked and throw him across his desk. That would certainly put on a show for the folks across the street at CPB. 

"I thought you'd never ask," he grinned. I love that smile. His whole damn face changes when he lets me see those pearly whites. 

Walter opened his desk drawer and took out a set of keys on a ring. He gave the keys a little shove towards me across his blotter. I shifted forward and picked them up. I smiled back. 

"Why Walter, are these the keys to the kingdom?" I tease putting the metal passport into my inner suit coat pocket. 

"The keys to the whole fucking kingdom," he replied in a low growl. 

Oh Fuck. I'm hard in an instant. He sees the expression on my face. Sweat must be pooling on my upper lip. I'm sliding around on the hot seat to ease the pressure in my balls. I lick my lips but find out the perspiration was in my fevered imagination. Walter's smile widens, becomes devilish. Jesus, I want that mouth. 

"Did you have plans for the weekend?" he asked, toying with the file on his desk. 

"I do now." 

"All right then. Well, uh, you can let yourself in tomorrow night if that works for you. The silver key opens the front door to the building. The gold key unlocks my apartment door. I'd very much like it if you'd join me there this weekend," he ends more formerly.  

"Is that an order?" I smirk. 

"Fuck you, you dick," he laughs. 

"I certainly hope so," I whisper and he barks a really loud laugh. 

"I take it you're working late tomorrow?" I venture. I don't want this moment to end now. The heat between my legs feels so welcome even though I know I can't do anything about it right now. Anticipation is bliss with Walter, or Scully too for that matter. Besides, I'm just enjoying Walter's presence too much to want our little tete a tete to end too soon. 

"Yeah. I have an afternoon meeting I know is going to drag out. But, I hope it won't take too long," he nods. 

"Want me to get dinner?" 

"Don't go to any trouble." 

"Hey, I can dial with the best of them," I advise making a punching motion with my index finger. 

Walter chuckles again, "Ok, whatever you're hungry for, Mulder." 

"You mean besides you?" I grin. Oh that gets him. I notice he's shifting in his not so comfy chair now. Gotcha by the willie there Wally I think with smug satisfaction. I really will have to try phone sex with this guy sometime - he's a prime candidate for some audio dynamite I do believe. 

"I was thinking Chinese, Thai, something Asian," he swallows hard. Oh yeah baby. Just wait. I know a few Asian delicacies I bet you've never had Mr. Skinner. 

"Sounds like a plan. Scully told me about a good Thai restaurant near your place if my memory doesn't fail me." Of course it never does - being eidetic has it's advantages in a multitude of situations. 

"Thai would be fine," Walter nods again and I sense we'd better wrap up our little assignation thang. Walter sighs. 

"Yeah, I have to let you out of here. I have a meeting in a few minutes. So..." he lets his voice trail off and raps his knuckles on his desk. 

"Friday then." 

"OK," he grins. 

"I'll keep the home fires burning until you get there, sir," I whisper as I rise to leave. 

"See that you do, Agent Mulder," he growls in mock seriousness. I'm reaching for the door handle when he delivers his parting remark and I smile without turning. 

"And Agent Mulder?" 

"Yes, sir?" 

"Congratulations. This is the first error free expense report I've seen from you in over 5 years. I'm thinking of framing it."  

I laugh, open the door and head back to Scully in the basement. Maybe she'd like to quit early I think. I can take her home and help her...pack. Yeah, we can pack it in all right, I smirk. I rearrange the extra pistol I'm now packing in my pocket and hit the down button on the elevator. 

xXx 

Friday morning dawns Scullyless and I'm a little glum. But my Walter weekend looms so my spirits are uplifted before I even hit the door to the Hoover Building. When I arrived in the basement I was met with a pleasant site on my desk as well. A note and diskette from Scully. 

>>>Mulder: 

Here are the completed autopsy notes from Hoboken. All you need to do is insert them into your part of the report and we're home free. Good luck with Skinner this afternoon. And good luck this weekend too. Don't muck it up, loverboy. And I don't just mean the Hoboken case report, Dudley. See you on Monday." 

DKS<<< 

I tell you - what a woman. Can you say Nora Charles, Mrs. Thin Man? Yeah, I knew you could. We'd spent last night doing the wild thang and here she gets in early to drop these notes off for me. Bark at that bone, Asta Mulder. Good dog. She just sends me. Scully does, I mean it. There is no one to match her efficiency or her rapier wit. I love a woman that keeps up with me, yessiree. I really love a woman with more efficiency in her little finger then I have in my entire body. I don't know what this pseudo Nick Charles would do without his Nora. Have mercy. 

I was smiling wide as I booted up my PC and slipped the disk in the A drive. I knew those autopsy notes would fit seamlessly in with my - ok - rather passable case report. I don't like to let my light stay under a bushel all the time. Fine - the report was a fucking masterpiece. I knew Walter would approve it and the flawless autopsy notes would only insure the good reception. So there. 

I sat down to blend Scully and my words of faultless wisdom in preparation for my 1:30 meeting with Walter *wait till you get home, baby* Skinner. 

I was approaching Walter's outer office, report in hand, just before 1:30 when I saw Kimberly ducking for cover. Oh fuck. I could hear Walter all the way down the God damn hall. He was cursing someone out in there. Atypical. He usually did that with more restraint. Quiet flaming. A subtle roasting on his turning spit. I know, believe me. But he was bellowing like a wounded moose behind his closed door. Kimberly walked past me in a hurry.

"I'm going for coffee. Take a seat. I'll be back in a minute," she nodded back into the outer waiting area. 

"Who the hell's in there with him?" I shot after her retreating back. 

"Agent Spender," she hissed as she swung her empty coffee cup up towards her head in a surprising imitation of a slaughter hammer. 

Jeffrey Spender? Good. Meat for the beast and I wouldn't want to see it any other way. The pencil necked geek. God, I hate his guts. Gee don't mince words, Mulder. Ok, I won't. I think he's a mutherfucking traitor and as soon as I can prove it for sure he's going down. I told him that once, and I never spoke a more true threat before in my life. I keep expecting to see him standing in Walter's office sucking on a fucking Morley cigarette someday. The good and faithful son -nepotism allowing him to follow in his Godforsaken father's footsteps. Allowing him to hurt Walter again. I'll see Spender in hell before I let that happen. 

But for now, I bide my time. I need proof and I don't have it yet. But soon. Very soon. I enter the enclosed waiting area and take a seat to wait for Walter to get done laying waste to Special Agent Jerkwad Suspender. I can hear him behind the closed door and I can't help but smile in malicious glee. I tap the report file against my leg. 

"If I ever hear about you obstructing local law enforcement like that again, Agent Spender I'll have your badge and gun. Do I make myself clear?" 

"Sir, I think..." 

"Spender, you're *not* thinking you insubordinate asshole. That's the fucking problem here. Take my advice -I'd reconsider my reply right now, agent - or suffer the consequences." 

"Yes." 

"Yes, what?" 

"Yes, you are making yourself very clear." 

"Very clear?" 

"Very clear, sir." 

"Good. I'm glad we've reached an understanding." 

"Yes, sir." 

"All right, you're dismissed. I'll handle this mess with the Bristol, Virginia PD. But next time mister, your ass is grass. Now get out." 

I pretend to clean some lint off my pants leg as Walter's office door flies open. Jeffrey can barely contain himself but he does manage to catch the swinging wood before it slams back into the wall and signals his ire to everyone on this floor. He pushes the door shut after him and advances on me. 

I smile sarcastically up at him, pinning his eyes. Die, Die My Darling! I wish I *had* that fucking film's ax in my hands. I'd whack it through his scrawny pencil neck. He glares at me. Nope - no love lost there either. Spender hates my tensing intestines all right. He's the first to look away though as he bulls his way past me and out into the hallway. The returning Kimberly Cook dances out of the way managing to spill nary a drop of her steaming hot fresh coffee. 

"It's alive," I quip as she takes her seat behind her desk.  

"Barely, from the looks of things. I thought I saw a blood trail," she chuckles. 

"I wish," I return her humor. 

You know, I suspect once in a while that Kimberly Cook is a woman wearing comfortable shoes. You've heard that slang term haven't you? No? well, women in comfortable shoes equals lesbian. I mean I think Kim's gay. I don't know why but she strikes me as...well I get the idea she knows and understands about Walter and me at least. She's just a hell of a good-natured human being. I guess I'm jumping to conclusions regarding her sexual orientation out of seeing a kindred spirit. She detests Spender as much as I do. And she does guard Walter from all disturbing influences when she can. If she is gay she has the perfect cover as well. The office gossip says she's been boinking Walter for years. Well, I know that little rumor mill factoid is way off base. Walter has heard the rumor too. Hell, he probably started it. Or maybe Kim did. Who knows. Christ why should I care anyway? But it is interesting to speculate. Just call me Fox Mulder, National Enquirer reporter wannabe. The truth is out there. Lord. 

"You might as well go in, Mulder. He is expecting you and it's all ready almost 2 o'clock. He's got a meeting at 2:30 with all the other Assistant Directors and Louis himself," Kim nods her head towards The Boss's door. 

Jana Cassidy and Director Freeh? Holy shit. I'd better stop at National Liquor on the way to his place after work. Walter's going to need his bourbon tonight, baby. God. 

"Ok, if I don't come out after the allotted time, call out the dogs," I replied setting my shoulders. 

"How do I know what the allotted time is, agent?" she grins.  

"Use your judgment, Kim. But remember, timing is everything." 

"I'll take that under advisement." she replies, raising an eyebrow as I turn my back on her. 

Once I'm inside Walter's office I look around in bewilderment for a second. He's not there. I toss the report on his blotter and then I hear the water running. He's in his perk - the executive can.  

Oh my. I walk over and stand in the doorway. Walter's back is to me and he's literally throwing water directly from the gushing tap all over his face. I can tell by the way the muscles in his neck are jumping that the full force spray is ice cold. Oh crap. If I had a reason for icing Jeffrey *eat my bullet* Spender before I have even more of a reason now. He's obviously fucked Walter over into near apoplexy the sick sack of shit. 

Walter keeps slapping the water. I approach him from behind and gently touch either side of his waist with my hands. Oh Christ what a mistake. His reaction is instantaneous. He whirls and one hand grips my neck. His Glock is stuck to the side of my skull before I can even blink. 

"JesusHChrist, Mulder!" he barks in panic. The gun goes up just as fast. His hand is shaking around his piece. He yanks it behind him, tabbing the safety back on and lays the semi-automatic on the small vanity. He looks down, gasping. 

"God, I'm sorry," I whisper, touching his face. 

"I almost shot you, you crazy asshole." He grabs for a paper towel and wipes his face dry. The towel goes next to the Glock.  The Glock gets picked back up and goes in his holster.

"I know. I...I shouldn't have startled you. It *was* an asinine move," I reply moving closer and taking him by the waist. I circle him with my arms. He settles against me with a sigh. He looks straight into my face. The kiss comes and it's hot and searing. He takes the lead and I let him. He needs to show his relief, his apology for nearly capping me. Walter's hands grip my head, pulling me by the hair as he crushes me against his mouth. I guess it has been a long time. My God. What a performance. I'm melting against him, hardly able to breath and not caring one bit, as his tongue thrusts in and explores the entire inside of my mouth. 

Finally he breaks away and his gasping this time has nothing to do with panic at nearly shooting me. 

"Jesus," he breaths out and turns away slightly. He's coming back to himself. I smile. Yeah, he's realizing where he is and why this probably isn't a really good idea. I mean sucking face in his office can isn't exactly a stellar example of good judgment. But what the hell. He adjusts his specs. 

"Better?" I ask him quietly. 

"More than better, but shit, I have a meeting in..." he glances back down at his watch. 

I step back to allow him some space, to give him a chance to regain his composure, his formality. 

"A little less than twenty minutes," he finishes looking back up into my eyes. My gaze strays to his crotch. 

"Yeah, and I gotta get rid of that too before I see the fucking Director," he chuckles. 

"Well..." 

"No way, Jose. Get the hell out of here. I'll take matters into my own hands," he nods towards the door, "I have to get out of the can at some point this afternoon." 

"Shit, Walter. I don't know if I should be insulted or flattered here." I smirk. I can see his point though. It's been so long that if I did go down on him I know I wouldn't be able to stop there. I'd want a hell of a lot longer than 20 too and I doubt Walter keeps lube in his executive can. 

"Take my word for it Mulder, it's a compliment, all right. Now blow," he waves me out, chuckling at the double entendre. 

"What about the report?" I ask as I cross back in front of his desk. 

"Report? Hey, saved by the bell my man. If I read that thing I should get rid of this boner through shear boredom," he laughs. He's really on a roll now. Blowing off steam after the scare in the can and the earlier Spender anger bender. I play along. 

"You shithead. Scully and I slaved over that deathless classic. You can't fool me, Walter. I know you get off on our reports. You're just going to use it for a fuckrag. What am I gonna tell Scully when she finds the pages all sticky?" 

"Do your own filing, Mulder, then she won't find out. Or better yet, just tell her you were reading it in front of one of your fuck flicks." 

"Oh easy for you to say, Mr. *I'd be lost without Kimberly Cook's filing expertise* AD. And you know of course that half the Bureau thinks you're putting it to her between the file cabinets."  

He's laughing in earnest now and it's a joy to see. The humor is having another affect as well. He's losing his hard on. Well I'll have to remember that useful bit of information. 

"Between the filing cabinets? Isn't that a little indirect? I mean off target grammatically, Agent Mulder?" 

"Well, your aim sucks anyway, Walter - regardless of the bad grammar." 

"I could say something about sucking too, Mulder -but I'll have mercy on you." 

"Thank God for small favors, sir." 

I'm at his door and he's standing by his desk with his hand on his stomach, the laughter vibrating through his entire body. 

"Get out of here you lunatic. I'll see you tonight," he chokes out as quietly as he can. 

"Right. Later." I grin back at him as I open the office door. I hold that picture of his smiling and laughing face so I can keep it in my minds eye until I see him again this evening. I shut the door and turn to see Kimberly also smiling in my direction over the remnants of her last cup of coffee. 

"Thanks, Mulder," she says ducking her head slightly over the mug. 

"For what, Kim?" I ask pinning her caramel colored eyes.  

"For making him laugh," she answers as she turns and sets the cup down next to her PC. 

"It was my pleasure," I mumble as she goes back to her quick and efficient typing. 

xXx 

 

* * *

 

xXx 

I left work at 5 o'clock. The meeting Walter had started at 2:30 was still going on and that did not bode well. I all ready figured he'd be late and prepared myself for the eventuality. I had to stop at Scully's apartment to take in her mail and paper anyway. I also intended to stop at my place to pack a bag for the weekend since I got sidetracked on doing that Thursday night. I was also going to change into casual clothes, collect a few CDs and feed my fish. I'd check back for my mail on Sunday morning or something. Whatever. No big deal. After those stops I drove to the Thai restaurant and then National Liquor for a bottle of top shelf bourbon. I don't drink it very often. I don't drink much at all really. But Walter likes to down one or two after a day like today. The deliciously spicy smell of the Thai food made my trip to Walter's apartment a pleasure even though my stomach was growling by the time I got there. It was 8 o'clock. I thought he would have beaten me home. 

An empty, dark and lonely apartment greeted me when I used the gold key and swung open the door. 

Shit. 

I sighed and dropped my duffel on the floor. The small thud it made on the soft, plush tawny colored carpeting echoed throughout the cavernous apartment interior. 

I moved through Papa Bear's den, turning on lights as I went. The soft glow of the lamps mitigated some of the sterile loneliness of a Walterless world. The kitchen light went on last. I opened the fridge and placed the big bag full of little Thai food boxes into it's cold caress. I took out a Diet Coke and sat it on the counter. Just as I shut the fridge door my cell phone rang. I grabbed the phone out of the pocket of my leather jacket and flipped it open. 

"Mulder." 

"Nine o'clock. I swear to God, Mulder. Nine." 

"Walter?" 

"Yeah." 

"Where the hell are you?" 

He was talking over what sounded like the noise of flushing toilets. 

"I'm in the can at Casey's bar, Mulder." 

"Casey's by the Hoover building?" 

"Right. I'll explain when I get home. Nine o'clock. I mean it." 

"Ok, lover. Nine. I'll get the food ready." 

"Thai?" he asked hopefully. 

"The works." 

"Outstanding. I'll see you in about an hour." Click. 

What the devil? Well he would have to tell me all about it when he got home I thought. We had the whole weekend. Of course I had a few things to discuss with him this weekend as well. Scully flashed into my head. I wondered how she was doing with her mom. I knew they were probably having a blast. Maggie was a lot of fun to be around. I toyed with the idea of calling Scully. No, this weekend was for Walter and me. I smiled and taking my jacket off walked back out to the coat closet near the front door. 

By 8:30 I had drunk my Diet Coke, stowed my gear in Walter's bedroom and put my shaving kit in his bathroom. It looked really good to see my kit sitting next to his toiletries. Homey. I loved his new bathroom too. He had a damn whirlpool tub in it. A huge mother it was too. That was the other reason Walter had bought into this apartment. Hell I would have fought like a demon to get this place. No question. I know Walter probably loved soaking in that tub after a day like today. I decided on the spot that when he got home I would draw a nice steaming tub for him to relax in. He could lie back with his bourbon and if I played my cards right I could join him. It was an inspired idea. I was practically vibrating with expectation.  

I exited the bathroom and headed back down to the kitchen to reheat the Thai food. I purposely purchased dishes I knew from experience would warm up well. Leftovers are a Mulder specialty after all. I had decided to set the table in his small dining room. Table for two. Walter had candles on it all ready. I managed to scrounge up some matches. I'd light them just before nine and dim the lights. A nice romantic dinner for my big buddy. God we could both use it. 

I was going to use the microwave but then I thought what the hell - I'd use the oven on low and nuke what wasn't hot enough when he got back. So, with the food in the oven I found my way down into his sunken living room and the mammoth sound system Walter has against the back wall. 

I had left my CDs on top of the rack where he keeps his collection. I pulled out one of my discs from the small stack. *Kettle Whistle* - Jane's Addiction. The CD goes into the Sony Player. It looks a little bereft on the platter all alone - just like me in this huge empty apartment. I need to rock and roll here for a few minutes to banish the last of my loneliness. To make the minutes fly by until my Walter arrives. 

I push the drawer in and the winding noise tells me Mr. Perry Farrell's band is cueing up. I grab the remote and stub the volume up to a decent level. The first strains of the first track, the CDs title song, fill the apartment with their weird and wonderful harmonious discord. 

The food grew hot and so did I. I was dancing around between the kitchen and the sunken living room like a jackass to the song *Whore* when a loud, growling voice interrupted my Farrelesque gyrations. 

"Who the fuck is that, Mulder? And what the hell is he saying?" 

I hadn't, of course, heard his key in the lock. 

Perry was shouting out, *I love them whores,* at the top of his lungs and I was frantically looking for the remote. I spied it on the back of the couch and hastened to grab it, turning off Farrells' howls of *mutherfucker,* in mid squawk. 

*Jane's Addiction,* I wince, embarrassment dripping like the bead of sweat on the end of my nose. 

"Jane's Addiction to what, bad taste?" 

I crack up. Walter comes down from the front door, weariness making his shoulders sag. He drops his briefcase on the couch. He removes his black trench and tosses it over the briefcase. 

"Would you like me to hang that up?" I ask nodding towards the coat. Late October and the trenches were out all ready. It had been unseasonably cool. 

"I'll do it later," he smiles slightly, "you look good wet," he adds taking in my damp hair and the slightly sweat stained front of my t-shirt. I smile back. 

"Would you like a bourbon?" I ask. That makes him raise an eyebrow. 

"I thought I was out." 

"You were until I stopped at National Liquor." 

"Hmph," he grunts, "Psychic Friends Network?" 

"Something like that. So?" 

"Yeah, I'd love a bourbon." 

"All right, why don't you sit down and relax and I'll bring you one." I reply quietly gesturing towards the couch. He nods slowly and I exit to retrieve the bottle and a glass from his wet bar.  

When I returned he's seated on the couch, facing away from me and staring towards the now silent Sony entertainment center. I walk around the couch. I poured the bourbon before I left the bar. I hand him the glass and he loosens his tie before he tips the tumbler to his lips. I watch as he takes the fiery, amber colored fluid into his mouth and swallows. His eyes close. When the first shot has done it's work he places the glass down carefully on the coffee table and glances at the bottle in my hand. 

"Good choice, Mulder. That's first rate hooch. But you can take the bottle away. I think one will do me tonight," he smiles wanly. He looks exhausted, headachy. Hell he looks like shit warmed over. Christ! Warmed over! I almost forgot about the meal. I take the bottle and make a quick exit for the kitchen. 

"I'll be right back. I need to check on the food," I call back over my shoulder. 

When I return Walter is standing by the dining room table taking in the two place settings and the glow of the long candles in their holders. He has a very soft look on his face. The candlelight plays across his glasses. Christ he looks handsome. Like some kind of Medieval Knight home from the wars with the light from a stone castle fireplace playing across his skin. 

He looks over at me. "I'm sorry I was late, Mulder. This is really...I don't know what to say." 

"You don't need to say anything, Walter. Do you want to eat? The food's ready." 

"Sure. Thanks," he nodded, "But let me help you haul it out at least. I don't want to feel like Ozzie and Harriet here." 

I laugh, "I think you're more a Ward anyway, Walter. But, yeah, come on. I can use the help." 

"You'd like shit in pearls, Mulder," he quipped as we headed into the kitchen. 

The food was good. I did ok on the dishes but then like I said - leftovers are a specialty. We had eaten in companionable silence mostly. I did ask him about Spender and was met with a frown. One thing Walter will not do is talk about another agent. Usually. He will on those occasions when the agent's actions impact the X-Files or the Conspiracy. When the actions directly affect Scully and my work. Spender has come under that heading before. Walter does know Jeffrey hates my guts over the issue of his mother disappearance and the Gibson Praise business. He was forthcoming about Spender then. But the jury is still out with him on Spender's possible role in the Conspiracy. I think as soon as I have proof however, we'll do a hell of a lot of talking about old Jerkwad. Oh yeah. 

But Jeff's debacle in Virginia wasn't really any of my business and Walter's frown and "you know I'm not going to discuss what you overheard, Mulder," comment ended that discussion. 

The rest was small talk. I was really waiting for Walter to tell me what happened after his last meeting of the day. I knew he'd get around to Casey's Bar. Eventually he did. 

I had gone to the can and when I came back he was pouring us some coffee from the pot he'd started before the meal. He walked out of the kitchen and brought the mugs back out to the table. 

"Thanks," I said. 

"This is Sumatran. Let me know if you like it," he remarked as he handed me the mug. 

I sipped it. "It's good, smooth. Not too acidic." 

"Yeah, that's why I like it. Easier on the gut. Casey serves it - that's were I found out about it," he replied taking a sip from his own mug.

Bingo. OK, here it comes, I thought. 

"Wanna drink it in the living room?" I suggest. I think this might be a comfy chair or couch conversation. 

"Good idea," he agreed glancing back towards the living room group. 

So, we're sitting on the couch together slugging down our coffee. Walter finally gets to the point. Well I told you once he isn't exactly *Mr. Communicative* didn't I? Especially when it comes to awkward emotional moments that deal with his sexuality. So...  

"Jana Cassidy," he growls out, "Christ, what a cunt." 

I almost choked on my coffee. Well that was fucking direct. I put my mug down on the coffee table. I thought I'd be better off without a mouth full of strangulation for the next few minutes maybe?  

"I take it the meeting didn't go well?" 

"That's the strange thing - it went really well. Budget shit, but painless. We had a few sticking points but by and large it went routinely. 

"So what has you codifying AD Cassidy's anatomy?" 

He shakes his head, "You're not going to believe this, guy."  

"Try me." 

"Ok, but you asked for it." 

I settled back to listen. I had the sneaking suspicion that we were in for an *All About Eve* evening. The proverbial *Hang on, it's going to be a bumpy night* to paraphrase Ms. Bette Davis. 

"Well I thought she hated my living guts, Mulder. After I got done with your OPR hearing and rubbing her nose in the office revamp I figured she'd want my balls on a spit." 

"And she doesn't?" 

"No. As it turns out she just wants my balls. Or maybe I should say she wants my cock and balls." 

"You're shitting me?" 

"I wish I was." 

"She has the hots for you? 

"I sort of got that idea tonight, yeah," he answered drinking the last of his coffee. He sat the mug next to mine on the coffee table and turned to look at me. 

"She was extremely cooperative during that meeting Mulder. I mean uncharacteristically so. I should have smelled a rat then. But I just figured there wasn't really anything to gripe about budgetwise so she had pulled in her claws for the night." 

"So, what..." 

"I'm getting to it, OK?" 

"Sorry, go on." 

"Fine. All right. After the meeting, which ended at 6:30 by the way, she followed me back to my office. The whole way she's going on and on about Kimberly Cook. I'm thinking what the hell is wrong with this woman? Does she covet my executive assistant or what?"  

"Office rumors ride again?" 

"No shit. She was trolling to see how I felt about Kim. As in was I screwing her. What a crock of shit. You know how she is though - very skillful in her questioning." 

"I thought about as subtle as a chainsaw, actually..." 

"Only when she wants to tighten the screws, Mulder. You've never been in an executive level meeting with her. She's like quicksilver and twice as poison." 

"So, what did you say to this gentle probing?" 

"I flat out asked her if she was trying to hire Kimberly away. I mean that was all I could think to say. What was I going to say - "She gives great head? Bull shit." 

"Well does she?" 

"Mulder, get serious..." 

"Sorry, I couldn't resist." 

"Look, I told her if she could offer her more salary and better advancement potential to give it a shot. Hell, Kim isn't tied to my coattails. She has every right to try to climb the fucking ladder." 

"Yeah, but I think Kim would have told her to go take a flying fuck." 

"Probably. But that was beside the point. She should be given the opportunity to tell Jana to go screw." 

"I get your point." 

"Fuckin' A." 

"Listen, you want some more coffee?" I asked him. My mouth was getting a little dry. I would have offered bourbon but I didn't see that as a good idea given his surly man visage. 

"No, I gotta take a piss as it is," he shook his head, "Excuse me," he added automatically as he got up. I went in and filled the coffee mugs anyway while he was gone. I knew he'd dry up too before this was done. I had just put them back on the low coffee table as he came back and sunk down on the couch. Somewhere along the trip he had removed his tie and gun, discarding them. 

So, how did you end up at Casey's?" I asked trying to move the conversation along. 

"Well she said she'd give the *Kimberly issue* some thought. And in the meantime could she buy me a drink in way of an apology. Sort of a blanket apology I guess since she threw in the fucking hearing and all the stonewalling over the basement office renovation."  

"And you went with this madwoman?" 

"Shit, yes. She was buying and I really wanted to hear her eat crow Mulder. It was pretty hard to resist the invitation." 

"I guess..." 

"So, we went down to Casey's. It's close." 

"And you ended up hiding from her in the men's room?" 

"Was it that obvious? Shit." 

I started to chuckle, "The toilet flushing was a bit of a giveaway, Walter." 

"No I mean that I was hiding. Christ I hope she didn't realize I was running away from her." 

"What the fuck did she do?" 

"She was feeling me up, Mulder." 

"Groping you?" 

"Hell yes!" 

"Oh my, I'll have to have a word with our Jana, won't I?" I am really finding it hard not to laugh out loud here. The look on Walter's face is something to behold. The expression is a cross between John Cleese at his most outraged, and Truman Capote having a hissy fit. If Walter wasn't so aggressively butch I'd tell him he'd make a great Dame Edna for Halloween. But I think he'd rip my throat out. 

"If you breath a word of this to anyone, Mulder, I'll put you on VCS consults for the rest of your unnatural life." 

"Forewarned is forearmed," I raise my hands, grinning my surrender. 

"You'll do well to remember that fact," he nods. I notice he is reaching for the coffee now. See, I know my man. 

After a big swig of java he lets the rest come out in a rush. I just watch and listen to the words flow. Walter on a roll is a mesmerizing site. He claims *not* to have the gift of gab. I beg to differ. 

"So anyway, there we are in Casey's. "Let's get a booth, Skinner. I hate sitting at the bar in a skirt" Oh yeah, I bet baby. Those stools make a skirt ride up. But then again a booth is more private and we can sit a hell of a lot more close can't we *Spider Woman*? A nice dark booth. Bourbon. I think she had three of them before things went south. South? No shit. She's practically sitting in my lap telling me how she admired my...forcefulness. She's making little boozy breathings into my ear and batting her eyelashes. She starts going on and on about how she likes it when a man stands up to her. Most don't know how to handle her strength. What a crock of bullshit. I may be queer but I know a come on when I see it - from a woman I mean. I was married for God's sake. So she's telling me how she'd like to get to know me better - I mean the whole nine yards. We'd make a great team, Walter. Damn it. I'd rather *team-up* with the fucking Wicked Witch of the West and Glinda the Good Witch too. Witch? Hell, somebody oughta drop a house on fucking Jana I'll tell you." 

See what I mean? Stream of consciousness and he just lets it all come out if you let him go at it. Even if I wasn't a psychologist I'd find it fascinating. As his lover I find it illuminating if a little sad. He really needs someone to talk to, you know. I'm more than glad to be here to do it. He had stopped to catch his breath however, and take another swig of coffee. Second mug empty, buddy mine. I threw in the obvious question to get him revved up again. 

"So when did she grope ya, big guy." 

"Right under the fucking table. She has very educated hands that woman. Jesus. I'm sitting there ogling her with my mouth open because she's unzipped me for crying out loud. I..." 

"Did you get hard?" 

He hadn't really been looking at me up to that point. Most of this diatribe had taken place at attention. I mean *Marine drill, eyes straight ahead, back stiff and practically present arms sir*, attention. But now he turns slowly and pins my eyes. 

"What if I said yes?" he asked. 

I shrug. How could I complain about his getting hard for a woman under the circumstances. That would be the pot calling the kettle black wouldn't it?" 

"I wouldn't be surprised. As you said - you were married, Walter. You function with woman. You must get aroused by them in that case. I'm not jealous or offended over it if that's what's worrying you." 

"It was a surprise, that's all, Mulder. I mean she's such a bitch. The last person I would expect to give me a woody. Christ on a crutch. 

"Well, shit happens. I get hard for Scully sometimes," I added sympathetically. I might as well take the opportunity to lay the groundwork on that little item too I thought as he blinked at me. 

"Really? Well I can understand that with her. But I mean, Jana Cassidy?" 

"Whatever, Walter." 

"It was damned awkward." 

"I can imagine. Did you tell her you weren't that kind of boy?" 

"I told her to get her hand the hell out of my pants." 

"Did she get pissy about it?" 

"No, she just zipped me up, giggled, and asked if I wanted to go back to her place and continue the conversation. That Christ-awful giggle froze my blood let me tell you. I didn't have to worry about the friggin' jones anymore either. Shit - my nuts headed north." 

"I bet that's when you hid in the can." 

"No shit. I had to have a couple of minutes to think. I sure as hell didn't want to go back to her penthouse. She lives all the way the fuck in Annapolis anyway. But I had to think of an inoffensive way to make an excuse." 

"After telling her to get the hell out your pants?" 

"I didn't use those words, Mulder. Cut me some slack." 

"Fine. What did you do then?" 

"I told her I was expecting company this evening and really had to get home. But I did offer to drive her home as a courtesy. Thank God she turned me down." 

I nodded. Well...point for Walter. At least he was as honest as he could be considering the company was yours truly. 

"So you were off the hook." I stated for the record. 

"Not quite." I hear an alarm bell going off here. Something is burning in my gut and it isn't the spicy Thai food we had for dinner. 

"No?" 

"No. We went outside. I was trying to hail her a cab when she let's the last bomb drop." 

"Which was?" 

"Well you know the Directors Halloween Ball is next weekend?" 

Yeah, shit. It sure was next weekend. Scully and I were going. I hate those things but she sees them as political opportunities and enjoys going. I like the free food and the chance to see her decked out to the nines. But, Scully also sees those Bureau affairs as a way to stick it to all the assholes who come up to her and call her Ms. Spooky and similar utter shit. She takes a perverse pleasure in putting herself in that situation so she can flame the unlikely son of a bitch, male or female, who insults either one of us. I like to just lean against the wall and watch her work a room. She has the most engaging smile. So approachable is my Dana. But watch out turkey, that smile has sharp, pointy teeth. So, we would be there next Saturday. Me in my tailored tux with condescending smile pasted on, and Scully in strapless black with her acid wit scalpel ready for dissecting morons. 

"Don't tell me?" 

"Yeah, I'm her date." 

"Oh fuck, Walter how did you get yourself into that one?" I groan. I knew it was coming. Oh for God's sake. 

"Come on, Mulder, I couldn't say no. She backed me into a fucking corner. If I'd said no it would have been a bad political move. I..." 

"Politically incorrect? After what she did to you earlier? Cut *me* some slack Walter. You're just encouraging the rotten wench. You should have told her to take a hike and then pushed her in front of the fucking cab when it pulled up." 

"You said you wouldn't be jealous," he replied quietly. Oh bloody marvelous. Now he's going to pout. I thought that was my department. I sigh. 

"I'm not jealous. I just don't want to see you have to go through this whole hassle. I mean..." 

"What the fuck do you expect? We're in the fucking closet. It's been this way for me for years, baby. It's why I haven't let myself even...why I haven't gotten close to anyone. It's just too God damned painful. Fffuck it." he stutters out, slamming his fist down on the couch arm. Before I can stop him he gets up and heads out of the sunken living room. 

"Excuse me, I have to take another piss," he barks, stalking off. I just sit there, temporarily stunned. Well this evening is going to hell in a hand cart. Lord God I hope our discussion regarding Scully goes better than this mess. If we ever get to that discussion. At this rate, I'll be sleeping on the couch at the very least - back on my own couch under the worst case scenario. Piss on it indeed. I decide to go after him. I have to do something to salvage the situation. 

The bathroom door is shut. I try the knob. It's locked? He's locked himself in the bathroom? Oh for heavens sake. I rap on the door, "Walter?" 

No answer. I pound. 

"What?" 

"Come on man, open the door" 

"Leave me alone Mulder." 

"Walter if you don't open this door I'm going to kick it in." 

"Fuck you. You don't have the balls." 

That did it. He's not the only butch bastard in this apartment. 

"Have it your way," I hiss. I step back almost to the opposite wall, aim and place my kick directly at the knob and lock. The door crashes open with a satisfying wood shattering smack. Walter had been sitting on the edge of the whirlpool, his head in his hands it looked like. But his heads up now, and his eyes are popping wide open.  

"Federal Agent, get your fucking hands up!" I yell out in my best G-man voice. 

And he does. I have to laugh. But he's laughing too. There are tears in his eyes but I know they aren't from the laughter. They were there when he looked up. But now I'm making him laugh. Thank God. Maybe we can salvage this thing. 

"Now what was that comment about my balls?" I mock growl at him. 

"You're not going to get an argument," he chokes shaking his head in amazed amusement. 

"I should hope not." 

"But look at my damn door. Mulder, the landlord is gonna crucify me." 

I walk over in front of him and take his raised hands in mine, pulling him up, "Just tell him to kiss your ass Walter. You are the AD after all." I draw him close and kiss him full on the lips. Oh yeah. He's The Man all right. 

He moves in against me eagerly and he's swallowing me. I love this about Walter. He's a quick study. I can still remember that first tentative kiss in Baton Rouge. God damn. The big guy gets it on good. No tentativeness now. No sir. 

The heat between us is palpable. He's igniting me and I'm willing tinder under his large, rough, warm hands. When we finally come up for air I manage to croak out a suggestion. 

"Let's go to bed, Walter." 

His whole face shines with a smile of relief and pleasure.  

"Yeah," he nods and I take his hand as we walk down the short hall to his bedroom. 

Walter turns on a single lamp. We're bathed in it's delicate mellow glow. It doesn't take either one of us long to get naked. I throw my socks and they land on the night stand, covering my Smith and Wesson and his Glock where they lie side by side. We're entwined on the King sized bed before I've barely gotten my t-shirt off.  

Touching, stroking, tasting, touching some more. Both of us are hard as rocks and I love the feel of him against me as we grind against each others sweating flesh. His cock feels like a fucking steel beam. Walter's huge and every time I get a look at that weapon I almost explode. I mean Jesus - it's a work of art. 

"Walter..." I moan his name. He's working me all over now with his mouth and hands. He works his way, panting, back up to my face and we suck on each other for a second. Then he pulls back and looks at me. 

"Do you want me to blow you?" he asks. Well he must have been studying up. How nice. I guess our time apart wasn't wasted was it? 

"Oh yeah," I smile wide. I'm not going to come back with a smart wisecrack here folks. No way Mr. Hoover. 

"OK. Just tell me if you like it. I...well you know..." he shrugs slightly. Right. He hasn't done this before. Like I'm gonna care? At this point all he'd have to do is kiss it and I'm gonna shoot. It'll be a job for me to hold back. 

"Just do it, lover. I'm gonna love it. Don't worry." 

He grins and goes down with gusto. Lord it is good too. I try to hold back, to keep it up. I won't throw myself into him too hard anyway because I know I'll gag him if I do. As it is he does have a little trouble with the technique. But what he lacks in technique he makes up for in enthusiasm and enough natural talent. After a very short time he's relaxing and I'm able to thrust harder. He reduces me to groans before I even realize I'm making sounds. 

"Oh God," I hiss between clenched teeth. He's rimming me and I can't believe now that he's never done this before. I'm leaking and he's sucking it in. Oh Jesus. 

"Like it?" he whispers around the head of my cock. His breath tickles and it's puffing ecstasy. 

"Fuck," is all I can moan. I feel him smile around me. He swallows me again and that's all folks. I buck up one last time, hard. Oh hell, he's not going to be able to...I grab his head. I try to blurt out a warning but it's too late. I'm shooting cum like a rocket. He's choking on it. Shit. I knew he wasn't ready for me. 

"Oh man," I moan. I can't stop my hips from moving either. I'm on autopilot. Poor Walter. Talk about a baptism under fire here.  

I can hear him sputtering. He's let go of me but it's ok because my body is taking care of things on it's own now. I feel his fist close over me, God Bless him. Walter doesn't like to leave a job unfinished, no way. 

I figure he can use a little ego boost here. I know he's going to be embarrassed about gagging. 

"Oh Christ...s'gggood," I manage to grunt out. And I'm not lying in the least. 

He wrings me out until I know there can't be a drop left in my nuts. I fall back down flat and he shifts up next to me again.  

"You ok?" I ask wiping the cum off his chin. 

"I guess I need to practice a little." he replies, self-consciously. He bends over the edge of the bed and snags his BVDs to use as a fuckrag. 

"Try a beer bottle. That's the way I learned." 

"Yeah, I'll make sure I shake it up too," he chuckles. I lay back and shut my eyes for a moment while he trails a finger over my chest and stomach. I open them again when he starts sucking on my nipples. 

"Hey, what about your turn?" I ask pushing him back a little. He blinks myopically down at me. Walter without his glasses is somewhat at a disadvantage. 

"I can wait a while, man. It's just that, well I haven't touched you like this, hell, since Baton Rouge. I wanted...I wanted to give you back some of what you gave me that night. I can't tell you how much this means to me, Mulder." he replied quietly. 

Oh sweet Jesus. And you wonder why my heart belongs to this man? I tell you, I'm the luckiest fucker in the whole wide weird world to have Walter Skinner and Dana Scully at my side. It's a freaking miracle either one of them even entertains the thought that I'm worthy enough to lick their boots. Truly. 

"Walter, I want you to fuck me," I whisper touching his face. There. And I meant it too. I wanted his cock. I needed to feel him in me. To feel that connection with him now. I loved him and this was the final act I could offer to prove it. To let him possess me and watch my face when he did. I know he wanted it too really, whether he was willing to admit it to himself or not tonight. 

"Oh, man...I...don't..." 

I reached down and caressed his hard length, "Walter you have to realize I want this thing in me. God damn it, you're torturing me here." I chuckle. 

"Fuck," he shakes his head and laughs again, "What can I say when you put it that way?" 

"Now you're talking. You got any lube?" 

"Yeah, hang on," he nods getting off the bed quickly. See. I knew he'd given this some thought. Of course maybe he's just using it to fist himself but...I don't exactly think so. 

He's back double time with the Astroglide. 

"Do you want me to use a rubber?" he asks. 

"Not unless you really want to. You know we're clean. I don't have a preference there, big man. I use one if I want to keep it up longer, though. So, whatever..." 

"Mulder I have to tell you something," he replied, suppressing a grin. 

"What?" 

"I can keep it up all night if I concentrate." 

Jesus. I've died and gone to heaven. 

"Oh really?" I raise an eyebrow and glance down at his straining erection. 

"Oh yeah, baby. At my age one a night might have to last so..." 

"Holy boner, Batman." 

He cracks up as he moves back onto the bed and lies next to me. I can tell he's waiting for me to make the next move. I take the Astroglide out of his hands and motion for him to sit up. I sit up too and face him. 

"All right. Let's test that claim, Mr. AD. Hold still." I advise staring him in the eyes. He lets his body relax and he stays stock still. It's very eerie. I'm not sure he's even breathing. Shit. Special Forces training I think. You have to stay quiet and immobile for long periods in the jungle. Remind me never to go camping or hunting with Walter. 

I uncap the lube and squeeze some out into my hands. I warm it and then I take his cock. I sit there lubing him up with long, delicate strokes. The whole time I never stop looking in his eyes. I can see the awareness there, the arousal builds and builds. But he isn't coming. Ok. So the guy does have incredible control. God damn. I let go of his dick and concede defeat. 

"Hell, Walter. Why the fuck didn't you mention that little trick in Baton Rouge?" 

"You didn't ask me," he laughs and his whole body comes back to animation. 

We're both laughing together again and I hug him close. I smear lube all over his back. 

"Sorry man," I end up wiping my hands and his back with his BVDs as well. 

"So how do you want this Mulder?" he whispers once the shaking from the laughter stops. 

"I'd like to see your face Walter." 

He studies my face for a moment. Even so I almost miss the almost imperceptible nod of his head. 

"Show me," he replied, his voice rough with passion. 

I lie back flat and motion for him. The embrace is so unbelievable I start to tremble. I can't help it. I'm going into sensory overload here. We're skin to skin, total body contact from head to toe. Walter's powerful, muscled body moves over me, loving me, sending me to some other land. Or maybe I really am dying and on my way to heaven. My lips and tongue trace a pattern over his ear. 

"I love you," I whisper. 

"Oh God," he moans. I lift my knees up and spread my legs for him. He settles in nice and comfy and raises up on his elbows a little to grab the Astroglide. Most of the lube has come off his cock and gone onto me so he shifts, to sit up, and lube himself again with that much heralded concentration. 

"Walter?" 

"Yeah, baby?" 

"It's been a while, uh..." No kidding. He's going to split me in two if he rams that sucker in without some preparation. 

He smiles at me and moves closer. Three fingers are in before I even have to worry about it. God oh God. It has been too long. This feels so good, so right. I can't give voice to my thoughts at all in that moment. I look up into Walter's face and I know instantly that wanting this was the right decision and seeing his face a sublime vision and privilege. He angles up to brush my prostate and I'm crying to God out loud then. He must have remembered what I did to him in Baton Rouge because now he's letting his large fingers pump in and out of me and I'm writhing under his touch. 

"Uhhhh, Walter! Please...I want your cock. Do me, you fucker..." I'm moaning, twitching, begging for his dick shamelessly now. I don't care what he thinks about it because I'm beyond caring. I just want him to fuck me up the ass. 

"Oh Jesus, baby, " he croons. I know he's at a loss as to what to do with me. I have just enough mind left to lift my legs up and position them on his shoulders. I feel him gasping as he sinks into me. His breath is coming faster because I know he's trying really hard not to hurt me. It does hurt. But I'm surprised and grateful at how short the pain lasts and how quick I feel the ecstasy of that thick cock of his filling me. He grunts one last deep sigh and leans against my ass. His balls are touching my left butt cheek. I think he got a little off target. We both savor the feeling of being connected for a few seconds. Walter's eyes are shut. 

"Shift over and get comfortable, lover," I whisper touching his chest. He opens his eyes and looks into mine. I want to die with the sweetness of that gaze. When he does shift I groan loudly. It's too fucking good. 

"Are you ok?" he grates out quickly. 

"Hell yes. Believe me I'm not groaning from pain." 

"You feel wonderful," he leans down and caresses my cock. It's hard again and I have to shut my eyes. 

"Fuck me, Walter," I just manage to hiss out. He growls incoherently and taking either side of my hips in his hands he pulls out and thrusts slowly back in. That's it - I'm gone. My eyes fly open and I can't believe the sound that comes out of me. It doesn't even sound human. Somewhere at the end of the animal howl I think the word *harder* tagged along. But I wasn't sure. It mostly sounded so primitive my brain couldn't really process it. Walter's response is in kind. His primitive man has taken over big time. He begins to piston into me without thought, pounding against me. He has a few words sprinkled amongst the caveman grunting. Mostly *fuck* but he does manage to croak out *love you* once. 

I'm not even sure he knows where he is anymore and I don't care because I'm over the rainbow as well. He's bending over close and with each thrust of his hips he's bumping and rubbing my swollen cock. I know dimly that I won't even need a fist to get off. Just the continuous friction of his hard washboard stomach is going to make me blow up like a land mine. 

We're relatively silent now. Just gasping, some grunting and lots of slapping flesh. I can sense him tensing through his cock. He was right though. He's kept it up for a long time. Long enough for me to get harder and come myself when he finally angles up correctly and slams into my prostate. And I come all right, hard. Like a jackhammer. My muscles are clamping down on Walter's driving cock too and I'm screaming his name as I squirt milky fluid all over his stomach. 

"Oh God, baby, that's it, that feels so Goddamned...oh fuck," he blurts out. He looks into my face and suddenly he's screaming too but no sound's coming out. His face is totally transformed, beautiful, like a sculpture of a primitive God. An idol to be worshipped. I can see him, feel him shatter. He explodes into me. The force of his orgasm sending him thrusting deep. The cum backflows out because he's shooting so violently. I have to catch him when he collapses on top of me, half senseless. Both of us are sweating profusely and gasping like marathon runners. 

"I love you," he whispers as I cradle him between my legs.  

xXx 

 

* * *

 

xXx 

"You still with me Walter?" I ask as I trail a hand over the knee that sticks up out of the water. I'm leaning back against my human hot tub mattress as he rests his satiated form behind me. 

"Hmmm? Oh. Definitely," he mumbles with a gruff chuckle.  

"Isn't this better than a shower?" 

"Unquestionably," he grunts rubbing his leg along mine. I can feel his cock under me. It's limp but just it's presence feels fabulous. 

After the loving both of us lay stunned but Walter somehow found the energy to pull out and roll off me and onto his back so that I could finally catch my breath. The loss of his flesh from inside me was painful both physically and emotionally. I never wanted to let him go. But both pains faded quickly when he drew me close and kissed my forehead. The bed was a total wreck. Sweat, cum, Astroglide and wrinkled cotton do not a comfortable bower make. A shower was in order before bed. And one of us would have to find the oomph to change the sheets. Then I remembered my earlier idea regarding bourbon and his hot tub. We both did find the energy to make it as far as the bathroom. And my legs did carry me out to and back from the bar, booze bottle and two tumblers in hand. 

Now The Boss and I were nestled in steaming hot tub luxury, bourbons on the wide edge, and Walter was acting as a pillow as I lay back into his broad, muscular chest. 

"Wanna go again?" he chuckles as he reaches for the bourbon. I can feel him taking a sip. 

"Can you get it up?" 

"Fuck no." 

"Well then." 

He purrs another rumbling laugh and it feels like a huge jungle cat, a Bengal tiger, is lying behind my naked ass. I feel him set the bourbon down. One large hand snakes around my stomach, travels lower. Teasing, touching, knowing. 

"My getting hard again doesn't enter into it," he whispers into my ear as he hefts my cock up in his hand. 

"Oh Lord God and all the angels in heaven." I breath out in a rush. 

"Some of my agents think I'm more Devil then God," he whispers again. His breath plays against my face. I stretch my head back, arching my neck along his neck and head until I'm taunt against him. I close my eyes. I'm trembling once more. 

"They're wrong," I gasp as he starts to fist me. I'm hard after two strokes of his hot, wet hand. 

"Are you sure, agent?" 

"Sure? Hell yes. And why should I care?" 

"You should care about your soul, boy," he continues to breath against the side of my neck. I feel like a cello or base and his fingers are plucking my strings. 

"My soul?" A nebulous, ephemeral, doubtful subject in my mind. 

"Whether you care if you're damned or not...Fox," he licks my neck along the jugular and then he bites me, not hard, but hard enough to make me hiss. I groan as he sucks over where the blood pounds so close to the surface. I bet if he tried he could taste it right through my flesh just by sucking. 

"If this is damnation, Walter, then let me burn in hell," I moan. He removes his mouth from my skin so that he can speak. And it's a command. My blood boils in my arteries, flowing like molten lava into my brain as he grinds out the words. 

"Then burn." 

Burn? I detonated. My hoarse, guttural shout rents the air. I geyser cum up out of the water like fucking Moby Dick coming to the oceans surface to breath. My hips thrust up violently and I'm arching my back so hard I feel like I could snap my spine. He keeps cranking me and water is splashing out of the hot tub all over the floor around us from my thrashing. 

"Oh yeah, baby," he purrs over and over. "Oh yeah." 

xXx 

I raise one gummy eyelid and peer cautiously around. I have no idea what woke me up. It certainly wasn't the alarm. I am aware enough to know this is Saturday morning. 

It could have been Walter. He's lying next to me, on his back, arms splayed out, mouth open, snoring like a buzz saw. Jesus. The morning after. Well, sometimes your partner isn't a very pretty sight. I imagine I don't look any better. I know my hair is going in a million different directions and I can tell from the taste that I have a mammoth case of morning mouth. My bladder is bursting as well. I slide over to the edge of the bed and get up quietly, padding off towards Walter's bathroom. 

The sheets were nice and clean, cool and crisp for sliding smoothly off the bed. I ended up changing them last night. I was the first back into the bedroom because Walter had wanted to wipe up the bathroom floor. When I went back to his room and saw the sheets I practically ran to the linen closet. There had been some blood. Well it had been a while for me. I know if Walter had seen it though he would have freaked out. I stripped the bed down and balled up the evidence, throwing it into his laundry basket. I squashed the bundle down as far as I could and hoped he wouldn't notice anything untoward on laundry day. 

The aforementioned bathroom is spotless this morning. I'm standing with my hand on the wall in back of his toilet, my other hand around myself watering the mule. I'm a little sore. At both ends. Like I said - it's been a while. My undercover man is hung like a horse after all. I think next time we'll work a little longer on the foreplay maybe. But I'm not complaining. I feel at peace and very, very happy. It's not exactly a novel feeling. Think Scully and you'll know why. But I haven't had this feeling with a man in eons. So, I won't argue with the sentiment at all. 

I wash up a little, grab some mouthwash, spit and rinse. Then it's back to snuggle up for a while next to my big bed warmer. 

When I get back to the bedroom, Walter is waking up a little himself. He's squinting at me from under the covers. When he's finally able to focus on me he holds the covers up and I walk forward and slide back under them. We move close and lie face to face.  

"I bet you're sorry you don't wear glasses, Mulder," he chuckles, running a hand over his jaw and up along the fringe of hair that circles his head. 

I touch his hip under the covers and then run my hand down to cup his balls. I trail my hand down his cock, running a finger around the tip when I get to the end. 

"There's a lot to be said for being in the country of the blind, Walter. Other senses, like touch, become highly amplified."  

"And smell," he laughs, reaching down to take my hand from between his legs. He kisses my palm and shakes his head. He must be sore too - or maybe just a bit tired yet. In any event, nookie is not in the cards. I don't care. Just lying here with Walter is more than enough for me this morning. 

"Are you inferring I smell this morning?" I mock frown into his eyes. 

"You smell like Scope mouthwash, babe." he yawns, "And I can smell coffee too." 

My sinuses are never the best in the morning. I'd missed the coffee perking. 

"When the hell did you set up the coffee maker?" 

"After I swabbed out the bathroom last night. It's that Sumatran. It should be ready by now." 

Christ. He has more stamina then I thought. After the workout we had last night I'm still surprised either one of us was able to stand and walk much less change the sheets, clean up the can and set *Mr. Coffee* on automatic. I guess our exercise regimens have been successful. But then again in our line of work if you don't stay in shape you can get dead. 

"Do you want a cup now?" 

"In a little while. Do you mind if we just...if we stay here for a while?" he whispers, shy again. Oh my Mr. Mercurial. It's cute. I guess he thinks I'm going to jump up and be on my way? Fat chance. I may be hyper a lot of the time but I covet my post coital cuddling. 

"I'd like that, Walter," I smile. I can tell he wants me to hold him so I lay down flat. He shifts up and lays his head on my chest. I wonder how come he's not up for a piss. 

"Hey, don't you need to use the..." 

"I woke up earlier. I'm on empty. Do you know you look about sixteen when you're asleep." 

"Does that appeal? They'll be calling you *Chicken Hawk* next if you're not careful." 

"I guess that's better than "Old Man," he chuckles. 

"I don't think that's a danger after last night, Mr. Everhard," I quip. 

He laughs but then I can feel him frowning slightly against my pectoral muscle. 

"What?" 

"I'm sorry about Jana, man. I...I'll let her down easy next weekend, somehow. I mean it." he mumbles against my chest hair.  

"Don't angst over it, Walter. If nothing else I'll send Scully after her. She's coming with me to that shindig." 

I can feel his rumbling laughter again, "Shit, yeah. I'd pay to see that cat fight." 

"Well, I'll see what I can do. I'll bring the Nine Lives and we'll see what transpires." 

"Deal," he yawns against my nipple. 

"Why don't you catch some more Zs, Main Man?" I suggest.  

"I could use them." 

"Well, we don't have any special plans do we?" 

"Nope. I need to do some grocery shopping, errands, shit like that but..." 

"Then, sweet dreams big guy." 

He slept till noon. I got up around 9, threw on my boxer briefs and t-shirt, and had some coffee. I had to catch, amongst other cartoons, Johnny Quest. They were continuing the *Mud Men* adventure. Jesus Race Bannon's a hunk. No wonder I like Walter. Benton Quest was a cretin if he didn't take advantage of what his kid's guardian angel had to offer there. Clueless lab boy I guess. 

Walter waltzed out at noon - naked as a Jaybird. Lord have mercy. I will definitely have to stay over in nosebleed heaven more often. At this height neighbors seeing in the window is obviously not an issue. Even Race can't hold my attention when Walter's hard naked ass is moving in my vicinity. 

"Coffee's still hot," I pant out as he crosses into the kitchen. 

"Thanks," he replied. 

He comes back out carrying his mug and sits down at the end of the couch. 

"Ah, Race Bannon," he chuckles, "Why did I think you probably watched this show?" 

I chuckle and take another sip of my Sumatran. 

"Yeah, well I see you're parading your assets for me this morning. Afraid of the competition?" I joke gesturing my head towards the TV screen. 

"What do you think?" he grunts, running a hand down his chest and stomach. Jesus. OK. So this guy has a little more confidence then I thought. But I know it's probably new bravado. But any man who can make me scream like a banshee would have to get some egoboo out of it. It's nice to see. 

"I think your a cockteaser, Mr. Assistant Director." 

"Tease me, please me," he retorts. 

"Fuck you, Wally. Listen, do you want some breakfast? I'm wasting away here." 

"Brunch." 

"Whatever Mr. Universe. I gotta nosh or I'll die." 

He fixed me breakfast. I almost let him do if for me in the nude. But after careful consideration I changed my mind and he donned his robe. Two words - grease splatters. Enough said, Julia Childe.

And Walter is an excellent cook. Ham, cheese and vegetable omelets done to fluffy perfection. Orange juice, skim milk (oh yeah, we have to watch our figure), and more coffee. Well, I was full to bursting. Energy was flowing back into every sinew. I feel *more human than human* I thought. White Zombie. Oh, song title! And as soon as I thought it a gleeful idea popped right into my wicked little mind. Plans for tonight. Oh yeah. I saw a road trip in our future for after dark. Something with a little rock and roll in it I think. Electric, eclectic. Yup, clubbing. As in a boys night out at the dance club. I filed the thought away for later. If the opportunity presented itself I'd bring up an evening out with my prospective dance partner. We shall see. 

Of course I still had to discuss Scully. That possibility was proving to be a painful proposition. I just didn't know how to come around to it now. I mean things were going so well. I sighed. I would have to give it some serious consideration before long. Maybe tomorrow. God, I am such a chickenshit sometimes. 

"What's wrong?" Walter asked noticing my less than blissful look as I toyed with the last piece of my omelet, "if you're still worried about my getting hard for the *Iron Maiden* I can't tell you enough how..." 

Oh no. I hope I'm not going to hear this song repeated over and over like a broken record this weekend. I can certainly see that Walter hasn't quite conquered his insecurities despite his earlier body beautiful boasting. Well, have any of us really? I spear the last piece of egg and pop it into my mouth ruminating on my earlier Scully procrastination for a moment while he drones on about *Joltin' Jana*. 

OK. I guess this is a good enough opportunity. I gotta do something to get him past this bump in the road. His fear of bisexuality, or whatever the fuck is running through his head. Obviously he feels that if I think he might be attracted to women I'll jump the *Good Ship Lollipop* here or something. 

Well, it's high time I explain the way of my world I guess. It's going to be now or never. I take a deep breath. 

"Walter?" 

He stops mid sentence, "What?" 

"I'm going to say this once and once only. I could care less about your getting hard for Jana Cassidy. Case closed." 

"You're sure?" 

"Yes. Look, can we go sit down on the couch. We...I do need to talk about something in connection with this subject, however."  

I can see the color rising in his face. Oh shit. Please do not panic, I think. I lay a hand over his. 

"It's ok, Walter. It has nothing to do with the way I feel for you," I assure him - and that's perfectly true. He swallows hard and gets up wordlessly, heading for the couch. I follow and sit next to him. I take his hand and massage his fingers. God he has large hands. Mine are long and thin but his are just big. Wide. I love them.  

"What is it?" he asks quietly. 

"First of all, I love you, Walter. It's the truth. I wouldn't lie to you. Not now and not ever. Do you trust me?" 

"What do you think?" he asks. His eyes are like too obsidian jewels, black instead of brown at that moment as his emotions war across them. They glint behind his specs as if they're glowing with a dark fire. 

"I need to hear you say it, Walter." I can't have any doubt. I'm not as self confident either you see. In fact I'm a fucking bundle of neurosis, no question. Walter does not corner the market on lacking self confidence. No sir. 

"I trust you, Mulder." 

"All right. Listen to me and don't interrupt for a minute here. This is going to be hard for me, for us both I think. So I need to get it out, ok?" 

"Go for it," he sighs, and I do. 

"Walter, I'm not going to beat around the bush. I know you appreciate honesty and directness. Scully and I are lovers."  

I think he stopped breathing. His hand falls out of mine and slaps into his lap, lifeless. Color drains out of his face. 

"You...you're sleeping with Scully?" he just manages to choke out. 

"Let me get you some more coffee..." 

"Fuck that...don't you dare leave it like that...what the fuck...Scully? Mulder...Christ..." He's reddening. 

"Walter, shut up." I spit out. He stops instantly. I can see him breathing now for sure. He's breathing hard, fighting for control. Control wins out. 

"All right. I'm sorry. I...I want to hear about it. How long has this been going on?" he asks. Always the AD. Let's get the facts on the table here, agent. 

"A while. Since before her cancer." I shrug, "Walter, I'm not gay. I'm bisexual. I love Dana Scully with all my heart and soul. Just like I love you. Do you hear me, Walter? I love you both more than life itself." 

He's looking at me, stunned. 

"I guess I know why you could care less about Cassidy," he shakes his head and turns away from me. 

I reach over to turn his head back but he flinches away.  

"Please..." is all I have time to say. 

"Mulder, can I ask you to leave?" 

"Walter..." 

'No, look. I...I just have to think this out, ok? It's all right. I...I just need some time alone." 

"I don't want to leave you alone, Walter. Not like this. Not now." I whisper. Fear grips my belly. I don't know what he'll do. I have visions of him hurting himself. 

"Mulder I'm not going to eat a bullet if that's what you're thinking. Believe me I've had more opportunities over the years to suck on my gun then to suck cock. So you can put that idea out of your head." 

My hands are shaking, "Walter, please don't ask me to leave, I'm...I'm begging you." 

"All right I won't," he grunts. Then he gets up and leaves the sunken living room. I can't move. I'm in shock. Impotent and paralyzed with sorrow. Walter isn't gone long. When he returns he's dressed in jeans, work boots and a soft, gray LL Bean sweater. He's still unshaved. His gun is on his belt. He has his keys in one hand and his cell phone in the other. 

"Where are you going?" I ask stupidly. 

"Out. Since you won't leave I will. I'm taking the Corvette. Driving helps me to think. Stay here if you like. I'll...I will come back." he crosses with finality to the coat closet and pulls out a jean jacket. The cell phone goes in the pocket. 

I take in the light jacket. He'll freeze if he puts the rag top down I think. 

"Wwwalter," I stutter, "The forecast said cold and...." 

Before I can get out the rest of the sentence his apartment door shuts behind him. Hot tears begin to course a trail down my cheeks. I fumble for my cell phone where I left it on the coffee table last night. I flip it open and hit the speed dial. I find it in me to pray that my call is answered. 

"Scully," the voice of my angel comes across the distance in answer to my prayers. 

"Scully..." I croak out. 

"Mulder? What's wrong?" she blurts out in alarm. 

"We...we need to talk." I sigh into the phone. 

xXx 

"Mulder, I'm sure he'll come back," Scully is trying to reassure me over the miles. 

She was instantly there for me when I explained what happened. It must have been awkward to talk because her mother was there but she told her it was Bureau business and went in the bedroom. I didn't want to keep her on long though. Mostly I just needed to hear her voice. 

"I just feel like I fucked the whole thing up." 

"Well, it was a hard subject to deal with, Mulder. Maybe...maybe I should have been there when..." 

"Uh, that probably wouldn't have been a good idea," I winced. 

"Well, so now what?" she asked. I could almost hear the shrug over the phone. We'd pretty much talked it all out. 

"I guess I sit and wait." 

"As good an idea as any..." she agreed. 

"But Scully?" 

"Yes?" 

"Never mind." 

"No, come on, Mulder. What?" 

"Could you maybe come back here tonight?" 

"Hell no." 

"See, I told you never mind." 

"Listen, Mulder. My mother and I are attending a concert tonight. Vivaldi. We're both looking forward to it." 

"No problem, forget I mentioned it." I tell her. I lay in just enough of a whine into my voice that she's starting to squirm. She is still a softy for the hurt puppy dog whine every once in a while. I'm hoping this is one of those times. 

"Mulder," she whines back. But I can tell I'm hooking her. I set the hook. 

"When he comes back /If he comes back?/ I'm taking him to *The Safehouse*." I can hear her breathing on the other end of the line. Land that fish, Mulder. 

"The Safehouse?" 

"Yep. We're putting on our dancing shoes tonight, Scully."  

"Mulder you haven't taken *me* to The Safehouse in a hundred years." Bingo. 

The Safehouse is one of the premiere dance clubs in DC. The fact that it just happens to be a gay club is just a lucky coincidence. It also really is a safe haven, and very discreet establishment. The place has a predominantly male clientele but women aren't absent. Scully loves it there because there is no pressure to see or be seen, no men drooling all over her (women sometimes, but they're intelligent and or polite enough to take no for an answer), and the music is loud, hot and eminently danceable. My Scully really likes to shake her booty. Oh yes sir. I have trouble keeping up with some of her moves on the dance floor. We go to the club when we have time. And we haven't had time in...well you know all about that. I told you earlier. 

At any rate, I know she'd want to go the minute I mentioned it. So I just kept up the temptation and wait for the clockwork gears in her head to turn. 

"I know darlin'. That's why I'm extending the invitation. You said you should have been here. Be with us now. Come with us, Dana. Show Walter you..." 

"I said *maybe* I should have been there." 

"Semantics, Dana." 

"Oh shut up. And I can just see me out on the dance floor with Walter Skinner," she laughs. 

"Come on, I'll dance with both of you. You know how it is there, Scully. Everyone is squashed together so closely you're dancing with six other people anyway whether you want to or not." 

"Well you have a point there." 

"All right. So?" 

I hold my breath. Kiss or kill the idea time. 

"Let me call you back, Mulder." Click. 

Victory!! Now all I have to do is wait and hope she calls back before Walter comes home. I tab the mute button off the TV remote and continue to watch *Killer Clowns from Outer Space* on Showtime.  

Scully calls back before the balloon dog is chasing the heroes. 

"You are one lucky bucky, Mulder." 

I laugh. 

"Right after I hung up with you my mother got a call from her date for tonight." 

"You mean a man called your mom for a date?" 

"No - a woman. Of course, a guy. Well I guess you could refer to him as such." she sighs. 

"Well who was it?" I frown into the phone. 

"John Byers" 

I just manage to catch the phone before it hits the carpet.  

"This is a joke, right?" I'm laughing like hell into the cell. 

"I wish. Unfortunately, no." 

"Well, how did John Byers...I mean Byers and your mother? Holy *Revenge of the Nerds*, Catwoman." 

My God. John *I buy my suits at Sears* Byers? Not to mention the fact that the bearded LGM is just a tad younger than Mrs. Scully. Maybe the guy does have more balls then we're giving him credit for. Maggie Scully is nothing to sneeze at in the attractiveness department. In fact, she's gorgeous, a wonderful human being in a beautiful package. 

"Evidently, *Robin the Boy Wonder*, he met her at some gallery opening a couple of weeks ago. He just joined this arts group my mother belongs too. At any rate, I guess he's been pining for her and finally got up the guts to call her." 

"But I thought she wanted to go to the concert." 

"Yeah, well that's an X-File there too Mulder. He has tickets." 

I'm snorting snot so hard now I can hardly talk into the phone. 

"It's not funny, Mulder," she's trying hard not to laugh but failing miserably. 

"You should be thankful Frohike isn't into the arts scene, Scully. You really should be." 

"Mulder - get bent." 

"Come on, you know that was the first thing you thought."  

"All right, yeah. I'm thankful for small favors. Besides, Melvin likes them younger anyway." 

"And petite, and red headed." 

"Let's not go there, Mulder. If you do I won't be coming *there*, my sweet." 

"Ok, ok. So it's a date then?" 

"For everyone it would seem." 

"Can we pick you up at your place, let's say around 10 PM tonight?" 

"Yeah, I'll be there. But, Mulder, if this goes South -call me please. I don't want to be sitting in my apartment wondering what the hell happened to the two of you, OK?" 

"No problem beautiful. I'll call," 

"Good, I'll see you at ten." 

I hung up and headed up to shower, shave and dress at last. I wanted to look at least half way presentable when Walter made his second appearance of the day. 

xXx 

Tom Servo, Crow T. Robot and Mike Nelson had just taken their respective seats in the *Satellite of Love's* movie theater on MST3K when I heard Walter's key in the lock. I put the TV remote on mute and stood up to face the door. 

He walked in silently and hung his coat up in the closet. When he turned towards me his face was unreadable. I know mine wasn't. I was beyond trying to cover up my anguish. 

"Sit down, this isn't a dress parade," he sighed coming down towards me, his cell phone in his hand. I sat back down on the couch like someone playing musical chairs and the last chair was right under my ass. 

He came into the sunken living area and, tossing his cell phone down on the couch, glanced at the TV, "What is it today?" he asked gesturing towards Crow's head bobbing on the screen. 

"The Giant Spider Invasion," I answer quietly. 

"Hmph, that reeks." 

"Walter, this reeks can you talk to me, for God's sake?"  

He turns and my answer is on his face. Oh thank you God, I am delivered. I stand and he's in my arms before I can blink twice. 

"I'm so sorry," I breath against his face as he rubs his stubble harsh jaw against my freshly shaved one. 

"I'm sorry too, Mulder. I'm sorry I overreacted and I'm sorry I scared the shit out of you too. But I did have to get away and think. The Corvette's always been my escape valve, man. That bitch is better than bourbon." he chuckles against me. 

"This bitch is better than bourbon too," I whisper into his ear. 

"You'll never be my bitch, Mulder. Don't even get the idea in your head. I don't want a woman. If I did I'd be balling Jana Cassidy right now. You're my fucking equal in this relationship. I know we can't be that way in the damn office but outside of it - don't buck me on this, all right?" 

"No top, sub - any of that master-slave *thang*?" 

"No fucking way. I'm the God damned Dom every day of the work week in the Hoover building. I'd like to get butt fucked by the lover of my choice in bed, capeash?" he grins into my eyes. 

"Yes dear." 

He shakes his head, grinning wider. I kiss him on the nose.  

"Mulder, I'm trying to make a point here." 

"Sorry, go on." 

"Look, Mulder. You and Scully, uh...it doesn't matter. She...Christ she's a fantastic woman. I know you two are a phenomenal team and...well if you're in love with her I never knew it until you told me. I mean I could tell you were devoted to each other - but I thought that was the partner gestalt working there. I had no idea you were lovers. I guess that is a testament to your feelings for me, Mulder. I...I can't deny I know you care. I feel like I'm the center of your whole world when I'm with you." 

"I love you, Walter. You are the center of my whole world. So is Scully. I...I can't go it alone Walter. I can't go on without either of you. I'm not whole without you both." 

He kisses me then and there are no more words. No more are necessary. He pulls back and ruffles my hair with one of his large hands. 

"Hey, I stink. I'm going to take a shower." He released me and stepped away. 

I breath deeply, his smell is masculine, heady. Stink? Uh, I don't think so. Relief at having him back with me floods through my blood until my entire body sings. 

"OK. I...I'm gonna watch the spiders," I reply, dazed. I nod towards the silent TV. 

He smiles wide, "All right. Then we should decide about dinner I guess." 

"I'll give it some thought," I nod as he walks off. 

xXx 

"The Safehouse? I've never heard of it." Walter says around a slice of sausage and mushroom pizza. 

I opted for Mulder soul food while Walter was in the shower. I yelled the suggestion through the door while he was singing *Wild Thing* by Jimi Hendrix, in the shower. 

"Pizza? Yeah, I wouldn't turn it down," he called back. 

When he came out of his bedroom dressed in fresh jeans and a black t-shirt the pizza had just been delivered to the apartment. So now we were chomping happily and I had thrown out my idea for the evenings entertainment. 

"I thought you went to the bars once in a while, Walter. Down in Baton Rouge you..." 

"I do, Mulder. Once in a *great* while. I usually go to Club 219." 

"Oh. Well Club 219 is fine." 

Club 219 is for older gay men. Been in business for years. It's almost a gentleman's club. A place to go and drink, swap war stories. Have dinner with a friend. Sedate. Actually it isn't bad. I went there with Reggie once. They have a great prime rib. 

"But boring, right?" 

"No. Just quiet. It can be great if you want to talk with that special someone. They have a great prime rib." 

"I take it you've been there before," he raises an eyebrow.  

"Walter I won't lie to you. You're not my first male lover. But I won't compare you and I won't discuss the others. I hope you won't buck *my* wishes on that." I replied taking up another slice of pizza. 

He shrugs, "Yeah. I can live with it. It's water under the bridge. But, Mulder. I was serious about not getting close to anyone. I really was a virgin in Baton Rouge." 

"It was sweet Walter." 

"Sweet isn't exactly the way I would have termed it but...well, whatever. At any rate, I used to go to the club to talk to the other Nam vets. We got to be buddies. Most of them were with someone all ready. I just had to go somewhere once in a while where I could - you know - just be myself and talk over old times. One of my buddies told me about that joint in Baton Rouge. It was... it was a little overwhelming." 

Christ. And in all these years he never hooked up with anyone? And no one snapped him up for that matter - even for a one night stand? But oh yes - he had mentioned the fact that he'd lusted after me from practically the first day I'd walked into his office didn't he? Jesus. He'd been holding out for me just on the off chance that...God All mighty. I didn't even want to think about the implications of that idea and what it could do to my ego. 

"I know, Walter. I...we go out to The Safehouse when we need to work off some steam. Dance, you know. Scully and I stay out on the dance floor until we're so exhausted we want to drop. Dervishes use the same principle to work themselves into a transcendental state. I guess I'm emulating them. Hell, I don't know. Mostly I dance so I can forget...things...for a while." 

He nods in understanding, looking down at the table. He shakes himself a little and looks back up with more relaxation in his stance. 

"Do you want that last piece?" he smiles towards the pizza box. 

I shake my head and continue to chew. "No, you can have it. I invited Scully to come with us tonight." 

He nearly chokes on that last piece. Half of it falls back out on the table and I'm at his side. 

"Shit, can you breath? I don't want to have to do the Heimlich Maneuver, Walter. Are you all right?" 

He's shaking his head and waving me off so I go back and sit down. 

"Just blurt it the fuck out, Mulder. Do you want to kill me or what?" he coughs out, sputtering angrily. 

"Sorry, it just popped out I guess." 

"I'd like to pop you. God!" 

He finally finished gasping for breath and begins to wipe his face off with a napkin. Miraculously nothing got on his clothing. But the tabletop is covered with goop. 

"I gotta get a sponge..." he growls. 

"I'll get it. It's my mess - indirectly." 

"It's your direct mess, Mulder," he rumbles, "Go." 

I exit for the kitchen and come back with the wet sponge and some paper towels.Mopping it up takes a couple of minutes. Walter stands nearby sipping his Diet Coke, watching me with furrowed brow. Finally I'm done with the elbow grease. I take the sodden paper towels in hand and look up at him.

 "Does it meet with your approval?" 

"It'll do." 

I leave the table and retreat to the kitchen. When I return, Walter's gone. /Now what?/ I wonder. 

I can hear him somewhere. It dawns on me that he's in his bedroom. I can hear him opening drawers back there. 

I trundle up the short set of stairs that leads up to the bedroom level and go down the short hall. When I walk in on him he's standing in his closet. Well that's an image with an obvious connotation isn't it? Hell. But in this case, it's a pleasant vision. 

"Ok, Mulder what do you think about this jacket?" he asks holding up a gray blazer. 

"What?" 

"Does this look good. I mean if we're going out, I want to look good. Especially if I gotta worry about impressing the other woman," he chuckles putting the jacket back on it's hanger. 

"You bastard," I laugh, "I thought you weren't going to go. I really did." 

"I have to face up to this sometime, Mulder. I might as well face the music tonight rather then put it off. So, what does Scully like? I mean color wise. If we're both going to escort her we might as well look decent." 

"Maybe we should color coordinate." 

"Oh yeah, right. We can look like the fucking Bobsey Twins."  

"You're dating yourself, Mr. AD," I tease, rummaging through his clothes rack. 

"I'm dating you, asswipe. Now help me decide." 

"Jesus, Walter. I thought my clothes were expensive. You've got me beat all to hell." 

Walter is quite the clothes horse ladies. Not only is his stuff tailored to show off his physique but he only buys the basic best anyway. He could wear anything off this rack and not go wrong tonight. I felt like the poor cousin in comparison. Like the Pauper to his Prince. 

"So, Mr. Blackwell - How about some input here?" Walter prods, holding up another jacket. Black this time. 

"Dress light. You're going to sweat like a pig out on that dance floor." 

"Dance floor?" 

"Well yeah, you're gonna dance with me, aren't you?" 

His lips curls up in a little smile. 

"Do I need one of those hats with the tassel on top - you know - a fez?" 

"Fez's are mandatory for the follicley challenged didn't I tell you?" 

"Fuck you." 

"Keep promising, Walter. I do have an eidetic memory. 

"So, no whirling, but I'm gonna get hot anyway?" he asks glancing at me as he puts the second jacket back on the bar. 

"The fucking dance floor is so packed we'll be stuck together like glue." 

"In that case, yeah, I'll dance with you," he smirks wolfishly. 

Oh baby. This is going to be a glorious night. 

xXx 

 

* * *

 

xXx 

We took the Corvette, top up, and headed for Scully's in plenty of time to stop by my apartment. I really needed a different change of clothing myself by that point. Something a little better than my ripped Levi's and *Fuck 'em Bucky* t-shirt. 

Walter stood just inside the door of my apartment like the friggin' building inspector until I invited him in. 

"Who do you think you are - Count Dracula, Walter? You don't need an invitation to enter here - come on in and sit while I change." 

Did I tell you what he ended up dressing in? Black. All in black. Even his tie. He looks like a fucking Mafia Don but the effect is rather breathtaking. I know Scully's gonna drool. She likes a man in black with glasses. I speak with authority - it's a fact Jack.  

"I didn't wanna scatter the roaches," he quips, wrinkling his nose. 

"You God damned queen! Get your ass on the couch. I'll be out in a minute," I shot back at him as I retreated to my bedroom. 

I pulled out black button fly skin tight Levi's, black t-shirt, black sports coat and black Doc Martens. Men in black. Gee, how appropriate. I just wonder what Madam Scully will wear. As an afterthought I strip and put on my black jock. I can't really wear anything else under these jeans anyway. 

A quick look in the full length mirror on the back of the door tells me I'm dressed to kill. Oh yeah. I don't opt for my specs though. We'll allow Walter some originality. Scully's going to be dragging her tongue as it is when we both show up at her door.  

At the last, I run a hand through my hair and smooth it back a little. There isn't much I can do with it. Mind of it's own. One of these days I should think about going back to that shorter do I had a few years ago. It was a hell of a lot easier to manage. I shrug and head back out to join my big boy date. 

Walter is standing, staring at my fish tank when I come back in the living room. 

"You have a floater here, Mulder," he advises me reaching into the top. 

"Christ, not again?" I reply. I should give up the damn fish. I'm the angel of death when it comes to them. 

He gingerly lifts the slimy corpse out of the confines of it's watery grave and drops it into my outstretched palm. 

"You should try a fungicide. It's got ick." he grimaces as I take the body into the can for another watery burial. 

"Ick?" I ask as I come back in. 

"Fish fungus. Sharon had tropical fish," he replies looking me up and down. 

"Oh. So?" I spread my hands out in that all encompassing how do I look big guy gesture. 

"Very nice. I guess we are color coordinated." 

"Black isn't a color, Walter." 

"But black eyes are - keep it up sweet pea." 

I chuckle and glance at my watch, "Shit. We'd better get going. Scully's gonna be wondering where we are if we're late." 

The drive to Georgetown is spent in silence. I'm too fascinated watching Walter drive the Corvette to talk much. Mr. Skinner is nervous so I know his conversation would be reduced to monosyllabic grunts anyway. 

God, he drives that stick like he cranks my dick. He really is into the Chevy. It's almost like he's some kind of H. R. Giger mechanoid creation - joined with the very steel of the machine as it speeds down the Beltway. Biomechanical. I lick my lips as he shifts gears and puts the pedal to the metal. We won't be late at this rate, Scully. No sir Dale Earnhart. 

We pull up in front of Scully's apartment with time to spare. Walter shuts off the ignition and sits behind the wheel, staring through the windshield. 

"Take a deep breath, Dad," I smile. 

"I'm counting to 10," he nods, "All right, let's go." 

Walter stands behind me like he thinks he'll be able to hide his man mountain bulk from the woman who will very shortly be opening her door. I ring the bell a second time and we're met with a shout from inside. 

"Hang on, I'm on the phone." 

Jesus I hope it isn't Maggie calling for help," I muse. In short order we can hear Scully's steps approaching on the other side. The dead bolt slides over and the door opens wide. 

"Hi," I smile wide, "Is everything all right?" 

"Just fine." 

Fine? Mighty fine. Oh my my my. I can hear Walter's hiss behind me. Yeah big dog tell me about not wanting a woman again. 

Scully is standing in the doorway, back lit but there is no mistaking what she's wearing. I really like her in strapless red too. Oh Lord do I ever. It's a hoot though. She's barefoot and barely coming up to my tits. An errant thought flits through my mind. Red and Black. King me. We look like checkers. 

"Come on in. Hello sir," she inclines her head towards Walter. I can just see the tiny smirk disappearing from her lips. 

"Uh...Hello," Walter squeaks. Oh brother. He sounds like Mickey Mouse on steroids. 

She steps back. I motion for Walter to step past me and he slides on by. Scully's eyes zero in on his ass like two blue beacons. I hang back a second and raise an eyebrow at her. Now that we're in the light I can see her pupils dilating. Oh FoxyLady. So are we really that nervous around The Boss? I don't think so. 

She grins and makes a thumbs up sign. I choke trying not to laugh. 

We both follow Walter into her living room. 

"Would you like a drink?" she asks us both. 

"I'm the designated driver, Scully. No. Walter?" 

"Sir?" she asks almost simultaneously. I can see Walter swivel his head back and forth between us trying to process data and make some sort of decision. His answer isn't quite what I expected but it's not inappropriate. 

"Call me Walter, all right. I can't...this sir shit just isn't going to work tonight." 

Scully laughs and a lot of ice is broken in that laughter.  

"All right, Walter. The bars open. Name your poison." 

"Bourbon?" 

"On the rocks?" 

"Straight up." 

"Can do. Why don't you guys sit down. I'll make the drinks."  

"I could use a Coke," I chuckle. 

"All ready there, Mulder," she replied back over her shoulder as she headed into the kitchen. 

Walter sagged onto the couch as soon as she was gone. I stood up, leaning against her fireplace, watching him. I'm amazed he isn't sweating bullets. His face looks like a constipated librarian's pickled kisser. 

"Walter, relax." 

"I'm dying." 

"You're doing fine. This is Scully, Walter. Remember? She likes you." 

"Oh yeah, right." 

"Well, she likes your ass." 

"You are not helping." 

"Just go with the flow, Big Man. You'll see. We'll be fine," I state with finality. I can tell just by the way Scully looks, her body language and the expression in her eyes that she's enjoying herself all ready. And oh yeah - she likes Walter's look tonight. But I can also tell that she's not going there. When she looked at me the air superheated between us. With Walter it was more like a little smoldering interest and that was all. 

I swallow hard as she sashes back into the room. The little red number she's wearing doesn't leave much to the imagination. She floats over and hands Walter his bourbon and me my Coke. 

"I'll be right back," she smiles up at me. When she returns she's holding a shot glass full of clear liquid. I know what it is - Dana Scully's slingshot of choice - Jose Cuervo, neat. 

"No salt and lemon?" I kid her, "oh, sorry. I mean lime." What that woman can do with a lime slice. God.

"Takes too long. Well, here's to extreme possibilities, gentleman. Cheers," she lifts up the shot glass. Walter sits there open mouthed like the fish he pulled out of my tank. I bark a laugh and raise my Coke. 

"To extreme possibilities." 

Scully and I are knocking back our respective beverages. Walter finally blinks and lifts the bourbon up to his lips. It's down the hatch without a single cough. 

He shuts his eyes for a moment. Scully is doing the same. Walter opens his and looks at her. Something passes over his face and I'm smiling wide. All right old man. The wheels are greased with top shelf hooch and I think Walt is maybe getting ready to rock and roll. 

"Thanks, Scully. This is prime," he nods, tipping the glass towards her. 

"Would you like another?" 

"Sure." 

"Ok," she smiles at him. Is that jacket by Calvin Klein?" she asks as she takes his glass. 

"Yeah." he nods grinning a little. 

"It looks nice on you." Oh boy Dana. Add a little more oil there. He's puffing up like jiffy pop now. 

"Thank you." 

She turns to me with a smirk, "You look very nice too...Fox. Would you like another Coke?" 

"No, I'm fine," And oh baby am I ever. Black Magic Woman you're earning points tonight. Scully delivers a really witchy grin and exits stage right. 

"Fox?" Walter raises an eyebrow. 

I shrug, "Some things have changed since Antarctica." 

"No shit," he rumbles a chuckle. 

After another bourbon for Walter and another tequila for Moi Scully, we're ready to hit the roadtrip. 

Scully went into her bedroom to get her shoes and a wrap for her shoulders. Walter stood up and when he fanned his jacket back I noticed he was wearing his Glock. Oh fuck. 

"Walter did you bring your piece?" I ask sputtering a bit. I had mine too, but I'm not drinking. Not the best mix -booze and bullets. I wish he'd left it behind. I also knew Scully wouldn't have her gun. Shit. I mean besides the tequila reason -where would she put it? She wouldn't be carrying a purse. She keeps her ID, key and some spare cash in her bra. We just didn't operate that way when we went clubbing. Always packing heat I mean. I'm usually her back up, literally, when we're at The Safehouse. I don't drink and a jacket covers a multitude of awkward items. But I was just a tad worried about what Walter might say. Mr. *By the Book* Skinner. 

Technically this is a big breach of the rules. A Federal Agent is a peace officer at all times. In other words we should never be unarmed. Theoretically. But...there were just some instances when I didn't think it was practical. Like when you're blasted on bourbon or wearing a skin tight sheath that barely allows for coverage of your cleavage much less Mr. Smith and Mr. Wesson. 

Walter's looking at me with a wry smile. 

"Count on it," he answers grabbing his crotch. Oh God All Mighty. Don't give my boy any more bourbon. 

"I don't mean your piece of meat Walter. I mean your weapon." 

"Come again," he asks, scratching. 

"Look, *Where's Waldo*. I mean your Glock." 

"Of course I'm packing. Didn't you bring your gun?" 

"Yes." 

"Then what's the problem?" 

Right on cue Scully reenters the fray. 

"Are you two ready?" 

Walter looks her over from the top of her red head to the tips of her red high heeled toes, doesn't say a word, and out the door we go. Well, Mr. Diplomacy rides tonight I guess. I breath a sigh of relief and take Walter's proffered car keys. 

xXx 


End file.
